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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390496">Black, Black, Heart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshFormerlyAura/pseuds/AshFormerlyAura'>AshFormerlyAura</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>#DeodorantNeeded, Action Sometimes, Albert Wesker Lives, ArentYouLike70, Attempted Sexual Assault, BetterToInfectYouMyPretty, Blood, ClaireIsATroubleMagnet, ClaireNeedsBetterTasteInMen, Drama, EgoBruising, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, EwGrossIDontWantToEatThat, F/M, Flashbacks, Gore, HallucinationsAreAlwaysBad, Hunting, Lab Assistant, Mental Health Issues, Nightmares, PainfulRegeneration, PoorClaire, ScienceProject, Seizures, Slow Burn, Snark, Sneaking Around, SuperZombieHearing, Switch-Hitter, TheFloorIsLava, UnlikelyAllies(Eventually), Untrustworthy, VirusSponge, WeskerIsACatToo, WeskerIsANinja, WeskerIsAVampire, WeskerLovesHisHair, WhoThoughtItWasAGoodIdeaToJailWesker, Whump, ZombieHobos, Zombies, murder hobo, shower, slowest of slow burns, snarky</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:47:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>53,588</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27390496</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshFormerlyAura/pseuds/AshFormerlyAura</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Claire finds Wesker post volcano not in the best of shape, and owing him from a previous interaction, decides to keep him alive and jail him.  She turns out to be quite bad at this task, much to the chagrin of both herself and her enemy.  Dark humor and whump in this slow burn between a very unlikely ship.  Some tiny alterations to RE canon.  Post RE 5.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Claire Redfield/Albert Wesker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>74</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>173</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Black, Black, Heart</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>My first upload at Ao3.  I have been working on this fic on and off for a while, and I hope folks enjoy it.  Feel free to drop a line if you like it.  This is very dark, as if the other tags weren't already a warning - but here's a second one just in case.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Black black heart why would you offer more</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Why would you make it easier on me to satisfy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm on fire I'm rotting to the core</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I'm eating all your kings and queens</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>All your sex and your diamonds</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>-David Usher</b>
  <span>, </span>
  <b>
    <em>Black Black Heart</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009):</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Fever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A constant unending fire burning my flesh - repeatedly as my body tried to regenerate through the ongoing damage.  I resisted the promise of a fiery death, but that didn’t mean that I lacked the suffering that often accompanied living.  Release from the pain was tempting given my boiling organs in the lake of lava where I struggled for purchase.  Seeking escape of the combusting torment that wracked through my form.  Direction had long been lost...anything that could possibly be ‘away’ was all that mattered.  Then I climbed from the pit of despair only to falter and tumble before coming to a pause.  The earth rumbling beneath me in amusement.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A hell of my own making. </span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>I’d gotten loose of the pyre, but every inch of me that remained, still seared.  My body writhed, uncontrollable twitching causing fresh lacerations of my nerves.  Worms crawled over my flesh, from my mouth, out of the holes in my cheeks, all adding to the misery...  Even that started to fade, either I’d adjusted to the pain or I was finally taking final steps toward oblivion.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then I realized the inferno had never been the real curse.  It was the nothingness that came after.  My soul wasn’t eclipsed by the blaze, but by the forfeit of my mind.  The loss of not the world, but myself...unawareness was the true ravager.  That was, until reality returned...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The timelessness shattered from nothing more than a raindrop.  A glimmer of liquid touching the earth and branching outward to invigorate the chemicals within.  The copperish taste curled across what was left of my tongue and I gasped for air, instantly reintroduced to the anguish of my charred form.  The only of my eyes that functioned trying to focus on a figure standing nearby.  What were they doing?  Their face, no their mouth...moved, but I couldn’t hear anything...my ability to take in audible input hadn’t regenerated.  I would have reached for them, but it was effort enough just to watch them for a moment.  I let out a shuttered sigh as the black wave of unconsciousness returned to claim me from the moment of respite...</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The humid heat seemed to summon it from under my skin.  There existed a constant need to tip my canteen back.  How anyone had survived summers in this godforsaken place was beyond me.  Dripping down my forehead with uncomfortable frequency I did what I could to ignore the slick salty liquid.  I had already soaked through two headbands, and didn’t show much signs of slowing on the third.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Sure, go to Africa Claire, it’ll be fun.  You can help research plants and slowly die from drowning in your own fluids.  Lifetime dreams, that...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Some of the flora in this region were at the cutting edge.  A few recently discovered flowers had been tied back to antivirus work.  On not just the T-Virus, but other engineered bio-weapons, including Uruborus…  These plants could be the key to the creation of a number of vaccines.  Of more immediate interest was one for Uroborus, so another Kijiku couldn’t take place.  All well and good in theory, but the flowers in question were troublesome and unstable.  They died quickly after being dug up, so a facility had to be kept in the Volcanos park so it could be properly broken down without degradation to it’s key properties.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Like an idiot, I’d insisted my presence was needed to be on the ground if I was really going to help.   So here I was...digging next to a volcano while trying to hydrate enough not to get sick as my skin tried to push the water right back out the instant it hit my lips.  All in hopes I could help get enough of the herbs that we could use them to synthesize a batch of vaccines.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The high-pitched alarm of my watch earned it one of few smiles I’d had today.  At least I could take a break for lunch and enjoy the view of the park.  I settled on a patch of dirt and dug out my M.R.E. and combat knife.  A screech from some local bird, who was probably becoming lunch themselves, made me jump.  I pushed the knife straight through the outside of the plastic pouch and into my hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit!” I hissed in pain.  At least I made a habit of wearing gloves when I dug, so it was a clean cut.  I sucked at the wound lightly then spit the blood out while digging for my small portable first aid kit.  Why me?  Thankfully, I hadn’t dug too deep into my palm.  I’d probably have a small scar.  The bleeding would stop with bandaging though.  I had just finished using my good hand and teeth to wrap it when I heard a gasp.  I scowled, glancing around nervously.  We usually split up during the day and didn’t cover the same areas so we could get more harvested.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when I saw ‘it’, a single eye staring at me from nearby in the dirt...an eye I would have recognized anywhere.  A yellowed cat orb with a red rim trying to focus on me.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...no, you can’t be you…” I hissed in disbelief.   Now that I looked closely, the dirt and ash built up over the small mound of earth didn’t have much of the other grasses or flora over it.  It was vaguely body shaped.  Had I just stumbled across Albert Wesker?  I didn’t move.  He didn’t seem to realize I was there, not fully.  After a few endless moments the eye slid shut again.  His body almost perfectly camouflaged into the earth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point I’d ended up on my knees, too stunned to keep my feet.  This couldn’t be happening...no way.  Chris and Jill both said he’d sunk into the volcano...that he’d died!  He had to be dead.  I settled a hand on my firearm.  What good would that do me?  If the volcano hadn’t killed him, could anything?  I let go of the weapon.  My next urge was to reach down and just roll him until I pushed him back into the lava…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    Then, guilt came bubbling up to the surface...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You can do something...save me.  Try...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d tried not to think much about that moment years ago.  When he’d helped me.  With him dead I had nearly convinced myself of my lies.  The story I’d given Chris and Jill about my work absence back then was an extremely bad case of food poisoning.  That nothing had happened...that I hadn’t had my life saved by this terrorist.  I’d known deep down it wasn’t true, but I’d also figured I never had to repay that debt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I remembered all too well that panicked conversation I’d had with him on Jill’s phone…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t know...I’ll owe you.  Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Shit…</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>I should figure out how to kill him.  No, if the volcano hadn’t killed him what could I do?  Trap him, maybe.  Even if he’d helped me.  He tried to murder most of the world just a few months ago.  I couldn’t just let him wander off for attempt number two, no matter what I owed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now, Wesker wasn’t quite the terrifying B.O.W. I remembered.  What I could make out of his body beneath the dirt was emaciated.  There was a patch of moss growing over the top of where one of his lungs should be.  It must have collapsed during his dip in the molten liquid nearby.  Part of his skull was crushed in as well, as though his usual regeneration had been stopped by the pure amount of damage.  I sighed, switching out my headband again, just for the need of something to do with my hands that didn’t involve attempted murder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck...what the hell do I even do with you?” I asked in frustration.  He didn’t even open his good eye again.   I couldn’t leave him here...what if local animals ate off of him?  That moss was getting tossed in the volcano.  I guess cleaning him off was the first task at hand.  I didn’t have the best tools for the job, but I would have to make it work.  I started with his chest and the mold I wanted to throw out.  Gloves back on I brushed layer by layer the way I’d seen people do it on National Geographic when they were at archeologist digs.  I knew Wesker wasn’t exactly an ancient vase, but his state at the moment felt fragile.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wonders would never cease.  Wesker and fragile weren’t words I would have ever considered together before this moment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I quietly hoped as I worked that I would wake up and this would just be another nightmare.  I had those frequently enough.  It took a while, but I got the moss in a bag that was thrown into the bright orange liquid nearby.  Then I brushed off most of the rest of the dirt from his chest.  His skin was a nasty almost gray color, the completion I’d come to expect from zombies.  Had his death de-evolved him into some lesser form of the T-Virus?  Was he just a broken beast now?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Focusing on what I could do instead of getting distracted with horrible possibilities, I got his arms free next.  His left hand was notably more...skeletal than the other.  It had some tendons and muscles, if you could call them that...but there wasn’t skin left.  It was gross.  Thankfully his other arm was in slightly better condition, it just had a few holes instead of outright missing most of the skin.  I did what I could to get dirt off him, but I didn’t have water to waste on cleaning a couple inches of skin.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I sat back, sighing at the new view.  He still looked dead, his chest didn’t rise and fall...though one half was visibly flatter than the other.  If he hadn’t been looking at me a few hours ago, I would have been convinced this was nothing more than his remains.  I might not have even recognized them at all, given the emaciated look.  There weren’t well toned muscles, there were barely muscles at all.  Had those been eaten away to keep him in this strange state?  If I shoved him back in the lava, perhaps it would just kill him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I knew I couldn’t do that.  Guilt crept in the moment I considered it, stopped the temptation from taking root.  This thing, whatever he was now, had saved my life.  I owed him at least the chance at prison...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Until now, I’d been avoiding his head.  If he woke suddenly and bit me...I knew I didn’t want  to be infected.  If I wanted to have a chance at getting him free then it was gonna have to get done.  Not that anything about this was good.  It was disgusting...one of his eyes was missing from the socket and near his hairline I could see down to his skull.  Same side as the burned off hand so he must have dipped lower in the lava on the left.  I brushed what I could from the socket and got his head free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t take as much care with his legs.  If I didn’t head back soon someone might come looking.  As it was I didn’t know how I would explain this.  I had to take him back to camp, but what to do from there I’d just have to figure out when I got there.  We did have some facilities for emergencies, so I think I could manage it.  Since he lacked his usual sunglasses or outfit, and he was rather skinnier than usual...I doubted most people would recognize him now that I thought more about it.  Even his hair was crusted with dirt.  Despite his international criminal status, most people had never gotten a reliable view of Wesker without the glasses.  I had to hope he would go unrecognized until I figured out my next step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thankfully there was little fuss about me leaving him in a small space for emergencies.  Most people just assumed I was doing testing in case the body had been infected.  If the area wasn’t otherwise used it would have been more difficult.  I managed to get him inside and on a stretcher, and no one seemed to recognize him.  Good news considering how fast gossip got around camp.  I’d need to move him somehow soon or risk that luck not holding out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First thing was strapping hands and legs, not that the restraints were meant for skeletal hands, but it was better than nothing.  It would definitely at least rattle if he started moving.  I had access to more supplies here, including a small pressure water gun I could put on a light setting to actually clean more of the dirt from his...insides.  I doubted being caked in dirt and ash was comfortable.  It probably didn’t lend well to any sort of regeneration either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A couple more hours passed before I actually could start to make out what might be a living creature.  The skin wasn’t as dusky as I’d first believed, at least where it existed.  He was pale, but if it wasn’t for the many holes and crushed parts his skin tone could be...okay.  Creepier than that was that the parts of him not half-rotten away were lukewarm.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even unconscious Wesker managed to unnerve the hell out of me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he was clean, it was more obviously him...the blonde hair helped give that away.  Perhaps I should have left it dirty so people that eventually checked in on my personal project had less chance of recognizing him.  I folded out a chair in the corner and sat down for a break.  My back, neck, and shoulders all ached from my time leaning over his body all day.  My neck had burned in the sun while I was cleaning him off too.  Ugh.  It was getting cooler at least now that the sun was going down, but I only had tonight to figure out what to do before things could get a lot worse very quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do I even do with you?” I asked again, knowing I wouldn’t get an answer.  He hadn’t shown any other vague sign of life since earlier today.  I knew I hadn’t just hallucinated it though, he’d definitely looked at me.  Why though?  I went back over my day at the area...frowning when I realized.  I’d bled on him somehow when I’d cut myself.  Ew.  Of course that’s what it took to stir him.  Albert Wesker was basically a fucking vampire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Soylent Green is people…” I muttered, walking out of the tent and looking toward the medical area.  I wasn’t going to bleed myself for Wesker, he was lucky I was even considering taking blood from the medical tent.  I would have liked to find a different source...but time was ticking and I needed to know what I was dealing with.  I wanted to leave him, or call Chris, or do anything that took him off my hands...but I couldn’t.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Guilt had rooted into my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I could just act like I don’t owe you anything.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d told him that with such confidence back then.  Now though, I walked into the medical tent, glad at least no one else was there so I wouldn’t have to lie to them, stalking up to the small fridge with a couple bags of blood for emergencies.  They wouldn’t keep long anyway...and they’d have to be replaced so I shrugged and picked it up walking back to my makeshift Wesker jail.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You could, but it’s not in your nature.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His words had come back five years later and he was right.  I was only helping him because I felt I owed him this.  I walked over to the body, staring at his broken form in disgust.  I set the bag to the side and grabbed supplies to put up an IV.  Wincing when the needle bent on his skin...of course...I couldn’t even use normal medical supplies on him.  He had to make it as difficult as possible.  I opened up the top of the bag to drip it into his mouth.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ugh, being the good guy sucked sometimes.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After getting a small puddle into his mouth, I pulled back, trying to ignore that I’d lost a few drops.  Was he going to swallow it?  How the hell did I help him if he wasn’t DOING anything?  “Dammit!  You worthless zombie hobo, just fucking drink it!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I hadn’t seen him swallow but it was slowly lowering...was it just leaking into his stomach or lungs?  Was I going to drown Wesker on donated blood after he survived a volcano?  Part of me thought it would serve him right…  I did my best to ignore that part since I would feel horrible forever if I accidentally killed him.  It wouldn’t be the best way to go.  Then I nearly dropped the bag, jumping back when he shuttered and his eye opened again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck!” I snapped.  You just didn’t adjust to seeing a body with one eye missing and rotten and the other open and looking straight at you.  It didn’t matter how many times you saw zombies…that shit was haunting.  He only stared at me, though I was sure his eye was a little more focused than earlier today.  He blinked slowly, his lips slightly twitching.  That wasn’t helpful…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...do you want more?” I glanced to the blood.  Was this like the hellish version of him offering me that water?  Why did I always get the short stick?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eye shifted to the blood bag, then back to me.  I didn’t know if he wanted it or not...then, his skin looked slightly less pale, maybe?  I hesitantly got closer again and poured a little more in his mouth.  He actively swallowed this time, which would have felt like a victory if it wasn’t so nasty.  I wrinkled my nose and slowly fed him until I ran out of blood to offer.  It seemed to be helping though...his muscles had actual color now...his skin was very slowly starting to knit together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank...you.” He managed the two words shakily, his voice erratic and gurgling.  Then, one of his lungs was still deflated.  His eye closed again after the words so I couldn’t point out that we were even.  I scowled at him for just passing back out.  It wasn’t his fault, I knew, but I was still mad.  I couldn’t just nurse him to health...I needed to do something.  I’d apparently at least saved his life.  He wasn’t just a zombie cause he actively showed me some appreciation.  I had to contact someone now.  I’d repaid my debt, but who did I even call that wouldn’t just kill him?</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Gasoline</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire relocates Wesker with some help and recalls some of her past history with the BOW that she never admitted to others.  Reminiscing leads her to act on guilt, which she might come to regret...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I released a low whistle as I followed Leon into the tall entryway of the castle like Spencer Estate.  It was our best chance at a place to keep Wesker so he wouldn’t be discovered by others.  The BSAA had largely just stopped using it after they’d finished the search for Jill and Chris.  It was too far from any large cities to be a useful staging point, but it possessed facilities we could use to try and keep Wesker contained in the basement levels.  Leon was somewhat familiar with it...so that helped.  I was just glad I’d been able to convince him to come help me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With some effort, we got Wesker to a set of spiral steps.  Each of us froze after we dropped him and he tumbled about a story lower.  He stopped for a moment on a landing before continuing to tumble.  Thankfully he eventually paused and didn’t move.  Leon and I exchanged a nervous glance and kept moving him, both of us nervous that if he woke we couldn’t really handle him.  Eventually the steps exited out into a long set of cells much more modern than the architecture.  Including several highly reinforced units that had been built for B.O.W. containment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perfect.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>A few days ago...</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I found him about twenty hours ago now.  I’m not sure of the exact time.” I explained after leading Leon into the tent.  Wesker hadn’t shown any other signs of consciousness, but he’d definitely started to heal.  Leon had missed corpse Wesker, now he was more just beaten to shit in a horrific factory accident Wesker.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Most of the holes had closed up, but his head, left arm, and left side of his chest were still visibly injured.  The eye was still slowly seeming to form in the socket, which was open down to the skull, though you could see blood in his veins, both at the head and the arm.  Though that regeneration had stopped progressing with any speed.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“He opened his eye at me a couple times now.  He hadn’t kept regenerating since around two A.M. or so?” I guessed, again.  I’d need to write all these times down later.  I was a bad scientist, not keeping track of all this.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You said you found him next to the volcano?” Leon glanced at me to confirm the detail and I nodded.  “Why didn’t you just push him back in?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Still wondering that myself, I replied.  “It didn’t kill him last time.  It might have just delayed the inevitable.  At least we found him instead of another group.  We might be able to keep a lid on it.  Can you imagine if any of the bio-terror remnant groups heard about this?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, that would be bad news.” Leon nodded to my point.  “What do you want to do with him?  When you said you had a threat you needed me to contain, you left out the scale.  If he wakes up, I don’t have the firepower to deal with it, not here.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Possibly not anywhere…” He added under his breath.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t know who to tell, or what to say.  I thought a lot about this though.” I replied.  “Shouldn’t Wesker be put in jail?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Is there a jail capable of holding him?” Leon looked back at me, holstering his gun now that the initial shock had passed and it was clear Wesker was no immediate threat.  Walking over to my chair to pat my shoulder.  “You alright?  It had to have been a shock to find him like that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“That’s an understatement, but I’ll be okay.  I just wanna make sure we get him somewhere he can’t hurt anyone.” I replied.  “If you need me to come with, then I’ll do that.  I just don’t think filling him with bullets has ever really helped put him down.  Containment seems the only real option at this point if he can regenerate from molten lava.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“A fair point, I think I know a place.  It’ll be a trip...but I have the copter.” Leon pointed out.  “I don’t think once we secure him, you should keep this from Chris though.  Jill, too.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not sure that would be best for Jill.” I replied, knowing Wesker had mind controlled her.  “Need my help to get him to the vehicle?  I’ll need a few minutes to gather some things.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I should be able to handle him, it looks like he lost a lot of weight...just tall.” Leon answered looking over the B.O.W.  “I’ll meet you there.  We shouldn’t waste time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Present Day (2009):</b>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later and I was left standing here...staring at Wesker while I leaned on the thick reinforced plastic wall of his cell.  I was inside, not that it mattered really, he was as threatening as the dust around him at the moment.  Possibly less, since he couldn’t make me sneeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> The cell we’d placed him in seemed as if it had been intended for creatures larger and possibly stronger than he was.  There was a controlled entry with three doors, no two of which could be opened at the same time.  Any heavy damage to the reinforced clear polymer or a flip switch would drop another metal wall completely around the prison.  Leon hadn’t been wrong about this being a good place to hold him.  It was probably one of the only places capable of it...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Leon was gone now though.  He’d gotten me some food and set up a weekly delivery of general goods before he’d left.  He’d promised to check in again after a week or two, but that meant I still had a while before I’d see another person.  I’d convinced Leon not to tell my brother for now, to leave that to me, but I knew this was probably just a temporary solution.   Once Chris got word of my unfortunate discovery... </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Idleness had never been one of my sins though, and I’d used the elevator to bring many items down to this level to make myself and Wesker’s cell more comfortable.  Nothing overly large in his case, nothing I felt he could use as a weapon, but I’d also gotten him some clothes so if he woke up he wouldn’t have to keep wearing the tattered leather pants over his legs.  I had busied myself a lot, doing what I could not to look at him too much other than to keep a few daily notes about what was going on.  Which was nothing really...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesker's body hadn't even twitched in the few days, laying somewhat haphazardly where we had dropped him and got out of dodge when we first arrived.  His eye had stopped regenerating at a misty orb in the bony socket and his hand was still skeletal.  Without more sustenance he might never wake again, just lay in the cell as a half-zombie in eternal stasis.  I leaned on the wall, staring at him in consternation.  Was I really ready to just basically stop everything in my life to play babysitter for Albert Wesker?  Not even him, just a hollow corpse with his general appearance.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn't even a good caretaker.  Sure, I’d brought down clothes and books and some general supplies, but I hadn’t touched him.  The way he was half off the makeshift almost bed didn’t look comfy.  He’d have a horrible ache in his neck, but hey he’d be able to read about random medical stuff.  He didn’t smell, so I guess that was nice...but should I be cleaning him off or moving him once in a while?  It felt silly to concern myself with bedsores when he had patches of bones showing.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was he in the same pain I’d been in?</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Years ago (2005):</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Spinning.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I finally understood what people meant when they said the room was spinning.  Let me add ‘head swimming’ and ‘splitting headache’ to my list of newly appreciated idioms.  I dug through the desk for anything that might help.  Drugs hadn’t done much so far for the pounding in my brain or the frequent dizzy spells.  I had tried to call Chris, but he was out at some job with Jill.  I didn’t get an answer from either contact number.  I paused as I picked up the old flip phone in Jill’s desk.  Who uses a flip phone these days?  It is 2004.  Come on Jill, get with the times.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>The light came on when I opened it.  She kept it on a charger, it had a small wire that ran to it inside the desk itself.  Huh.  Her contact list was the first thing available: Barry, B. Chambers, R. Frost, J. Enrico, M.  The list went on, possessing both surviving and dead members of the S.T.A.R.S. team...even my brother’s old number.  Why had she even kept this?  Then, at the bottom of the list: Wesker, A.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I frowned.  It was logical for Jill to have had her Captain’s number in her phone.  Then, for me, the thought of Albert Wesker didn’t inspire the best memories.  I’d met him a few times before he’d betrayed everyone and I hadn’t had much of an opinion on him.  The only time I met him after Raccoon City hadn’t been a positive experience.  I stared at the number quietly, tempted.  Then I shook my head.  This was just a strange find, nothing of note.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I leaned on the desk where I’d found the phone.  Closing my eyes as the room swayed around me.  I felt like I was standing on the bow of a ship trapped in high waves.  It had only been a few months since the airport.  I’d been given an anti-virus...but did that matter?  Had it just somehow just delayed the inevitable?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> I was hungry even though my stomach ached.  I was disoriented and itchy.  Unreasonable anger simmered beneath the surface of every thought.  ...all the symptoms were there.  This wasn’t malaise.  I just knew it at my core.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I was infected.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I didn’t know how.  Was it something Chris or Jill had brought back with them last week, inadvertently?  Then, they might be somewhere trying to figure out what to do too…they definitely weren’t answering me.  My phone felt worthless.  I couldn’t just call the hospital.  I didn’t want to be patient zero of a new outbreak.  I slipped, nearly falling, sending Jill’s phone skidding across the floor.  I stared at it...frowning at the concept that returned when I’d first seen the name...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Perhaps I was just feverish?  Even considering the idea of calling that final contact.  It wasn’t like it work.  He had no reason to still have the same number from his days masquerading as an officer of the law.  I stumbled after the phone, chuckling lightly at the absurdity.  I was going to die, and here I was attempting to call a man that beat me nearly unconscious last time I’d seen him.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Crawling to the bathroom, I lifted the flip phone on the way, dialing the final number in the contact list.  Just that short crawl was more sign of how bad this was.  My breath was coming faster, my chest heavy from the effort.  Sweat broke out along my forehead as I shakily dialed.  I was a little surprised when a dull tone rang on the line.  I expected to be explaining off a wrong number here in a second.  I leaned against the tub and closed my eyes to try and ward off the new bout of vertigo making the room wildly spasm.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Valentine.” The cold, calculated tone was one I doubt I’d ever forget.  One I’d come to equate with terrible things.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>This call was a mistake.  What sort of help could I expect to get from a mass murderer?   Why did he even still have his number from those days?  How did he?  Did he just track it somehow and have it patched to his new office in death company B?  Why did Jill keep this phone on? </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Do you have something you want beyond nervous breathing?” He prompted.  “I’m a busy man.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“This isn’t Jill.” It was the best remark I could come up with.  I didn’t know if I even wanted help from this devil, but I didn’t have a lot of options right now.  He went quiet for too long as my stomach and head both continued to boil my innards.  “Wesker?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“She-field.  Why are you using this contact number?” His interest seemed piqued compared to a moment ago.  The typing that had been echoing through his end of the line ceased.  That could just be wishful thinking.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I borrowed Jill’s phone.” I answered, trying not to pay attention to the alarm bells my mind was signalling.  “I didn’t know...this was a long shot…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You sound awful.  What do you want?” He interrupted when I kept failing to complete a thought.  Everything was fuzzy, muffled, painful.  This must be what it’s like to swim in a boiling swamp...</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I...hold on…” I couldn’t keep talking.  I managed to hit the speakerphone before needing to wretch my lunch into the bowl of the toilet.  Sushi had been a bad choice for lunch.  It was a horrible time to throw up rice.  The consistency of maggots swiftly exiting my throat didn’t help stave off fears of zombification.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re infected.” Wesker observed with newfound attentiveness while I gagged.  “There hasn’t been an outbreak in the area you live.  How did you become infected?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“How the fuck...should I know?” I hissed between bouts of retching.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were at the Harvardville incident.” He said after more crisp keystrokes came through the light static.  He had files on me?  Not encouraging me this was a good plan.  Hell, he could have been the one to infect me.  “Were you bitten or scratched?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yeah, but that was months ago…” I replied.  “They gave me the anti…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Nope, there it was, more heaving.  Apparently, the virus was against me finishing sentences.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Perhaps the anti-virus just delayed the infection.” Wesker remarked thoughtfully.  His calm not aiding my distress.  “Why call me?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m in the middle of fucking St. Louis...do you know how many…” More throwing up.  What the fuck stomach!?   There isn’t anything left to eject!  I was just dry heaving and spitting now as my insides endeavoured engertetically to be outsides.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“An outbreak in St. Louis would be problematic.” He agreed.  “You want me to send someone to finish you off before you bite anyone?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I want you to help me…” I hissed, leaning my head on the cold seat grateful for it being so chill.  A toilet seat had never felt so nice.  “You can do something...save me.  Try...”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I am very capable.  I probably could, but what’s in it for me?  You’ve never been much of a partner to the cause, dear heart.” He pointed out.  It soured my stomach even further to hear him use that nickname, to remember our last encounter.  This had definitely been a mistake.  What could I possibly offer Albert Wesker?  Why did I think he’d even help me in the first place?  I was doomed, but I muttered a retort all the same, “I don’t know...I’ll owe you.  Please.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll hold you to that.” His dark chuckle seemed to herald my spiral toward unconsciousness.  “Try not to…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Whatever he had to say was lost to the flood of nightmares curling through my spiralling mind.  Teeth, rot, destruction, fear...bodies!  Walking, screaming, convulsing, feeding, movement and hunger that went on forever.  Surrounding me...or perhaps just I was the center of it all.  All the horrible monsters that had wiped the joy from everyone in my life.  I couldn’t really tell if there was a difference before I got some minor relief by losing track of myself completely…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>Present Day (2009):</b>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t like to think about that time…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wasn’t it cruel to keep him in pain?  What was moral when it came to Wesker, anyway?  Did normal human rules really apply?  I supposed at least they should and pushed off the wall and slowly approached, unsure if I got near enough if that might stir him somehow.  Yet, he didn’t move and I took a deep breath, pushing him further on the crappy gym-style padding repurposed for a mattress.  At least it was big enough for him.  I lifted his legs up to place them on the bed, shoving a small pillow beneath the knees.  Then put a pillow under his head.  It looked more comfortable than before.  Not that I knew if he could even tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t really a punishment if he was totally unaware though.  Jail didn’t mean anything if you didn’t actually know time was passing.  Wasn’t that the point?  Could I figure out a way to wake him without letting him heal completely?  Or would that be just torture?  Ugh, why did this mess have to fall in my lap?  I just wanted to do some volcanic gardening, not dig up a dead B.O.W.  I added some thick metal cuffs to his hands and legs, this place was built to hold creatures like him after all so hopefully they could actually do that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps even just a few days isolated was getting to me, cause before I’d fully considered all the consequences, I’d pulled out my combat knife and cut my finger, letting some blood drip slowly into his mouth.  Just a few drops…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I took a step back when his fingers twitched.  The good eye opened more slowly than last time.  He took a shuttered breath, but he sounded slightly better than then as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She-field.” His voice was still slightly distorted, but the indent in his chest was shallow compared to when it had a pile of mold on it.  His lung had to have been part of what had regenerated.  “Water.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I canted my head slightly, not expecting the request at all.  I loathed the idea of him drinking from my personal canteen.  I’d want to burn it.  Still, it felt wrong to tell him ‘just give me like twenty minutes’, he might just pass out by then.  I reached for it and gingerly stepped back up, eyeing him in distasteful fascination as I uncapped it and carefully poured a little water into his mouth, wiping it from the side of his face when it spilled slightly.  He watched me back in not equal trepidation, but his own mistrust was clear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you stop...pouring blood down my throat please?” He managed roughly after I helped him with the water.  Breathing heavily between sets of words, unable to get enough air to speak for very long before needing to suck in more air.  “It’s not appetizing in any way.  If you want to provide protein cheese or meat would function...with less repulsive a flavor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...I guess.”  Not the first thing I’d expected him to say.  That was good though, right?   I suppose I hadn’t tried to give him food or water at all until now.  I really was bad at this.  “You know who you are?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Seems likely if I know...who you are.” He retorted, wincing when he tried to move his arm, the chain keeping him in place.  I wasn’t sure he would have lifted far anyway, his eye had gotten distant a moment after he tried before he managed to refocus it, still panting for air.  “You moved me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  I wasn’t gonna risk trying to rouse you again unless I had you somewhere secure.” I stated with more certainty after the momentary embarrassment about presuming he needed blood passed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Spencer castle?” He noted after his eye shifted around a little more.  “A frustratingly apt choice.  Could I have some more water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I leaned back in to offer another drink, wiping his face again.  He was a little more present than the last time, his good eye more focused.  I could already see his body using the little bit of hydration as a method to continue regenerating.  His body's ability to adapt and use what it possessed was morbidly intriguing.  There was already more color entering the ‘bad eye’.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Images of fire and death curled through my head, cooled only for a moment by a touch of sustenance.  My left arm felt like it was still in the lava, burning steadily away...same for my eye, my chest along that side.  Breathing was painful, but it was better than not.  The copperish taste on my lips had lost its temporary allure, feeling a dry and heavy coating in my mouth...I was hungry, thirsty, but wanted actual food and not the unpleasant flavor of blood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I pointed it out to the nervous lamb standing near me when I woke.  Thankfully she’d had an offering of water.  For now, that would do.  My body desperately needed hydration.  I would have downed the entire canteen if she’d let me; if I could take it from her.  Though my one attempt to shift had been halted, I was chained down.  Though even without the bonds, I don’t think I would have made it far.  Just thinking about movement made my body send an echo of pain through my open nerves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna stay in jail, here.” She stated seriously now that she was overcoming her nervousness.  Watching me pant for air on the uncomfortable stretcher she’d left me on.  At least she’d provided a pillow.  “For your crimes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t recall a trial.” I pointed out, looking around my cell as best I could without moving.  It was impressive, Spencer’s little cage.  If he had gotten me inside somehow it would have been a different story years ago.  Even at full strength...I would struggle to escape it.  “Is this the court...and prison of Redfield then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Basically.” She nodded at the concept.  She was quiet for a moment, then added.   “You won’t die, so prison it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had they tried then?  To kill me by more methods than just the volcano?  Is that why the pain is so intense?  I vaguely remember consciousness before now, muttering words, seeing blurry silhouette’s.  It felt like a lifetime ago, but She-field wasn’t so old that it could have been that much time.  Given how hard it was to talk, to breath, I wouldn’t be surprised if they’d spent a day or two filling my body with gunshots.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long has it been...since the volcano?” I asked.  This might be the last chance for me to get any information for a while.  I couldn’t ask the wrong questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About three and a half months.” She answered, glancing down when I looked back at her.  She-field had always been uncomfortable around me, even back in the S.T.A.R.S. days she hadn’t acted normal.  Though I expected I wasn’t exactly a joy to observe at the moment given the pain I was in and the fact I couldn’t see from my left eye.  How bad was I before now when I couldn’t really remember more than impressions?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...I don’t owe you anymore.” She muttered, one of her fingers playing with the top of the canteen in her hands.  I blinked slowly, mind going over what she meant before I remembered the time she’d been infected.  I hadn’t thought about it for some time.  Back then, I figured it was a nice thing to have over her.  To have something to eventually manipulate her and her brother with, but that I’d put out of my head once I’d settled on my plan to develop Uroborus.  Seems it had been a good choice to help her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found me.” I was only half-guessing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  You were near the volcano where I was gathering herbs.  It seemed like you’d crawled or swam out somehow, but then your body couldn’t handle it and went into some sort of stasis.” She replied, and I let her speak.  The more she talked the better, I could learn some of  what was going on.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had been research before on using a dormant state to better bond with viruses.  It was what had given Alexia such control over the T-Veronica strain.  Had my body then evolved to do that on it’s own?  Shut me down like an overworked computer until I had the energy to properly function again?  Logical enough, a god dying from a little lava would be unfitting.  Not that my current position was one of envy, but even Hercules had to take on his trials.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Am I to spend my days just locked on a bed then?” I had more important questions.  What had happened after the crash, obviously the world had moved on, but just who were the players in the bio-terror game now that Tricell had presumably gone down.  Those would have to wait though, not the things I could bring up with She-field.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“At least if I’m inside, yeah, you gotta be locked down.” She nodded.  “There should be a release for them outside of the cell, so I’ll let you out when I’m not in here.  I can turn on the shower, though I have no idea if the water is warm or not.  I bought some clothes and books.  Best I can do for now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I get three meals a day?” I was starving, there was a hole at my center that was more than the literal collapsed lung or damaged organs.  “I’d love some more water as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you heal up…you’ll be harder to handle.  I’m...” She paused, not moving to hold the canteen out again.  Apparently she’d figured out that I needed the food or water to regenerate.  “...I’m not sure, Wesker.  You can’t exactly be trusted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your lack of confidence...is expected, but even as a prisoner...I should possess certain rights.” I tried to reason, still half hissing out words when the air ran out sooner than it should.  Annoyed with her hesitation, but knowing that biting the only hand with any food was a horrible idea even if it wasn’t actively feeding.  “I treated you well when you were under my care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I only woke up once or twice under your care, and I’m not sure ‘well’ is the adjective I’d choose.”  She furrowed her brow at me, frowning slightly.  “You weren’t cruel as far as I know...but I have other memories where you broke several of my ribs.  So I’m not really losing sleep over you being a bit uncomfortable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Rockfort, yes.  I could have been a bit more of a gentleman.” I agreed, though I had enjoyed throwing her around a bit, perhaps not my best moment.  After all, it wasn’t her fault she was related to Chris.  “I think I made up for that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you hoped you could use helping me years ago to manipulate me.” She retorted, it was unfortunately difficult for me to argue.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t the good guys supposed to...be more good?” I breathed out, closing my eye as fuzziness started to settle in again.  Was my body returning to shutdown since I’d gotten so little fuel to help heal the damage?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have tried to kill my brother on multiple occasions, and you left Jill a complete mess, she’s still not quite right after you fucked with her head.” Claire’s voice was steadily going up.  Not that I could give her much for her so-called morality given my own hellish state didn’t seem to be bothering her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, it’s getting a little revenge for yourself.” I said coldly, trying to focus on her again.  False kindness hadn’t gotten me anywhere and I didn't have the patience to continue the lie.  “You brought me back to this so I could suffer and pay for my crimes?  You like it, you’re enjoying my pain.  Didn’t think you had it in you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not enjoying your pain.” She said immediately, shaking her head and frowning.  Her brows had raised and she released her arms from around herself where she’d previously crossed them to close herself off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?  Then why keep bringing me to?”  I coughed a bit again, wincing at the way it shook things that didn’t need to be shaken right now.  “Do you have the faintest idea what it…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I growled again as I coughed more, annoyed at my self-interruptions.  “Feels like to be conscious in this physical state?  Can you imagine it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That wasn’t the point.” She was still protesting, but she wasn’t moving to fix it either.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No?  Then why?” I was tempted to raise my head to better look at her, but I didn’t.  I’d be lucky not to faint outright for trying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, because if you’re gonna be in prison, you should be aware of it.” Was she convincing me, or herself?  Her voice had wavered, was her bravado faked then?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a arm that feels like it’s still on fire, it hurts to speak or move, and I can’t see through one of my eyes.” I retorted, not meaning to interrupt myself with some coughing.  Irritated at my own weakness.  “I might look worse than I feel, I’m out on that.  Still, I couldn’t get up to look if I wanted to.  Is the plan to leave me in pain forever?  If I can’t die, I can be shoved in some hell between life and death over and over?  Tortured like this until you tire of it and just leave me shut down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would deserve it.” Claire stated coldly.  “You helped murder hundreds of thousands of people.  You would have murdered a fourth of the planet...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, but I saved you!” I snapped back, somehow forcing my head up a little to stare at her more directly.  Anger has always helped me focus.  “What was it you said then?  I want you to help me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, and then you informed me I’d owe you.  I saved your life already.” Claire retorted, pointing at me accusingly.  “What’s in it for me if I help you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t leave you like this, crippled...” I remarked with less fervor than I would have liked, I was getting tired again.  The coughing had knocked something loose on the inside that I was pretty sure was bleeding now.  My head fell back to the pillow, dark dots dancing in front of my eyes.  It was all too tempting to just give into sleep again in hopes of escaping the pain a while...but I wasn’t sure if I’d wake if I didn’t convince her to let me.  I’d fight it as long as I could. “Or are you looking for me to...owe you something, dear heart?”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I almost went for Love the Way You Lie for my lyrics this chapter.  Just for this little piece of the song:  "I suffocate and right before I'm about to drown, She resuscitates me, she fucking hates me...And I love it, wait."  While I like the song, it still didn’t quite fit for this point in the story.  Later maybe?  Dunno yet tbh.  Could be an overall theme for the first part of the story?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Monster</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire second-guesses her own morality and remembers why she owed Wesker enough to even be tempted to let him regenerate and recover a little.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Chapter Three:</b> <b><em>Monster</em></b></p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Under the knife I surrendered, the innocence yours to consume</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You cut it away...and you filled me up with hate</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Into the silence you sent me.  Into the fire consumed.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>You thought I'd forget...but it's always in my head.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>-Starset, </b>
  <b>
    <em>Monster</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Claire - Present Day (2009)</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was really easy to do.  Loathing someone for the horrible things they’ve done is the simplest thing in the world.  Punishing them, wanting them punished, it was natural when someone hurt you to wish that pain back on them three fold.  The world was full of people pushing back that were pushed, and I’d never been one to accept a hit without hitting back.  It wasn’t in my nature.  I punched the pile of linen I’d brought in...then punched it again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Shit, shit, shit…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was right...I’d actually kind of liked that he suffered.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wasn’t that normal when you hated a guy that had done that much damage?  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Only if you’re also a piece of shit…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My internal talking cricket was letting me know how not okay this was.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span> “Do you have the faintest idea what it feels like to be conscious in this physical state?  Can you imagine it?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His words haunted me as I looked over the busted body in front of me.  He’d fallen asleep after our argument.  I was somewhat relieved that he wasn’t conscious now...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hated Albert Wesker. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>For all the horrible atrocities he’d allowed, for the ones he’d committed himself, for the ones he tried and thankfully failed to commit.  I had every reason in the world to just let him rot here...to not wake him again...to get some sort of wrecking equipment and personally demolish the upper floors so he’d just be buried here forever.  He wouldn’t survive and be a risk, but he wouldn’t suffer.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was right, some part of me wanted him to suffer.  I still wanted him punished, I wanted him aware of the passage of time while trapped like the criminal he was though, not physically tormented.  That part of me wasn’t the best part though.  I remembered a time when I’d heard about his death and thought it a horrific way to die...I was better than torturing another person...or another whatever he was...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I kicked the pile this time, scatting the new linen across the floor.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Stupid pillows.  They didn’t have to deal with a crisis of morality.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Past (2005):</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Sideways, floating through nothing, uncertain of the world.  Where I was...not sure if I was on my back, side, stomach?  If I was truly lacking any of these positions all together.  Perhaps, this wasn’t reality anymore at all.  I had a sense of self...I knew I was in a comfortable slow spin, moving consistently, lazily; rotating slowly like a slab of meat on a rotisserie.  My mind seemed incapable of focusing on any sort of gravity, and the weightlessness was lovely.  I wasn’t dizzy or just in vertigo, those were faster, out of control sensations.  This was light, easy, like a feather dancing in the breeze.  I wasn’t burning, there wasn’t a supernatural ache in my stomach or a split in my skull.  I was pleasantly unpresent.  Yet, vaguely aware of something amiss beneath the surface of the euphoric daze.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As my senses began to return, more of the impression that something was wrong rooted deeper.  There was something I was missing.  I was trapped on a precipice between blissful ignorance and a sea of uncertain knowledge.  Then it came crashing in, waves of what had been - clarity that threatened to drown me.  I had made an abominable mistake...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It was just a fever dream.  Some horrific manifestation of a cruel subconscious.  I did not try to call the master necromancer to stop me from turning into a zombie.  I wouldn't do that!  Besides, Jill would have never kept a way to contact him.  Albert Wesker wouldn't have helped anyway.  Just my imagination working illness overtime.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"You in there, She-field?"  The simple question shattered my hope of this being an illusion.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The clinical baritone made me shiver in unwelcome recognition.  I could barely open my eyes, but even blurry from the drugs and recent unconsciousness I knew that figure.  There was no mistaking that blonde hair or the thick sunglasses.  I had asked the devil for salvation, and he’d reached out clawed hands to rescue me.  I was alive...but how many I had damned in the process? </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>"Back with us?  Here."  He held out a small white paper cup with a clear liquid toward me.  He had on a white lab cost over the black he otherwise favored in his ensembles.  The whole room was uncomfortably bright.  "Take it slow.  This is your first bout of consciousness since the fever went down."</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I accepted the water.  I felt parched and my lips were dry.  I wrapped my fingers around the paper cup shakily.  It was odd, accepting something so mediocre as water from this traitor.  If he’d just helped me, he had little reason to poison me.  I was too grateful for the chance to wet my cottonmouth to hesitate.  How was I so dehydrated?  There was an I.V. with fluids running into one of my arms.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Did...was everything okay?  I didn’t hurt anyone?” I asked, voice a little raw.  I was trying not to focus on the jumbled nightmares of biting and repellant images of chewing on bloody meat.  I finished the cup, as though the mouthful of liquid could wash away the darkness.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>It didn’t...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You were rather close to death when the team arrived and brought you back in.  However, you didn’t infect anyone else.” He replied, leaning forward with a small flashlight.  I pushed myself back into the bed, wincing away from him.  He only smirked vaguely and reached forward again.  “Follow the light with your eyes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>If I'd been less dizzy I probably would have found my way off the opposite side of the room.  I’d like to be on the other end of the planet.  I didn’t want him touching me more than he had to.  As it was, I didn’t know if I had much choice...I’d called him after all.  I followed his light as best I could, too drugged and sick to protest actively.  He made a small noncommittal noise and turned to a computer to type in some notes.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>How could he look so normal anyway?  This monster had been at the root of hundreds of thousands of deaths.  Yet, he was casually taking notes on my medical condition like any normal doctor.  He’d offered me water.  He’d answered my question.  He lacked the hateful glint in his voice he had when he’d kicked me across the courtyard for defending my brother…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I rubbed my chest absently at the memory.  I’d ended up with several broken ribs because of his assault then.  Whatever he might look like, I knew the monster he was underneath that skin.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Am I to be another experiment then?” I asked, earning attention back from where he’d been reading something on the monitor.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you volunteering?” He inquired, all mild disinterest.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“No.” I replied quickly.  So fast, I knew he picked up how uncomfortable I was.  A half-smirk slid unto his face.  Why was it that my distress broke through his coldness?  I couldn’t stay here.  I had to figure out where I was and get out of here before he could use me against Chris somehow.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You do, as you put it yourself: ‘owe me’.  For my time and effort in keeping you from transforming.” He pointed out.  His attention returned to the screen as he typed a few more things in.  “Though, you’re too valuable at this time to just test on.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Valuable?  What made me valuable?  At this time?  So my valuable-ness had a shelf life?  Not the word choice to help my frazzled mentality.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just kill me now if all you want to do is use me against Chris.” I stated, scowling at his lack of enthusiasm for our conversation.  I was terrified over here and he was just ‘another day in the office’-ing me.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That seems entirely unwise considering the time and resources spent stopping your transformation.” He was still charting while he spoke.  He hadn’t even spared me another glance.  “Isn’t the usual expectation when someone saves your life some sort of appreciation?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not when they’re charging you for it.” I retorted, shaking my head.  Thank him?  Yeah right...far as I knew I would have been better off dead.  “I only called you cause I was feverish and out of my mind.  I wouldn’t...”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You would have called anyone to stop yourself from changing, dear heart.  No need to lie.” He interrupted.  He turned back to me, raising the sheet to push on my toes.  I swallowed nervously at the contact.  I didn’t remember our last encounter well.  Then, he hadn’t broken any bones, yet.  “It’s what you hero sorts do, you can’t help yourselves.  You might have chosen death over asking me for help if it were just you.  When it became the Metro area around St. Louis?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I quieted as he pointed out the fact that I had very much been between a hard place and a worse place.  Rocks didn’t even enter the equation.  I wasn’t going to argue morality with him.  I was still disappointed in myself.  When I was about to die I wasn’t thinking about others...not as I should have been.  Yes, I didn’t want to be the cause of an outbreak.  At the end of the day, I would have begged for help no matter where I’d been.  I wasn’t thinking about the consequences...I’d wanted to survive.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So...if you don’t want to use me against Chris...and don’t want me to be a science project.  What do you want?” I chanced hesitantly.  Needing not to think about my own bad choices until I knew what the consequences were.  I hoped he’d just be up front with me.  “I doubt a ‘well thanks a lot for saving me from being a zombie’ is gonna cut it.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“A reasonable conclusion.” He set the sheet back over my feet after checking my toes for perfusion.  “Here, pull against my hands.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I frowned at him.  “Are you serious?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes, a basic examination is expected now that you’ve regained consciousness.” He nodded toward his hands, which still hovered in the air near the bed.  At least he wore gloves...I hated the idea of touching him.  I complied.  However, my pulling only served to tug myself upright in the bed...he didn’t even budge.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Good, hold your hands up.  Don’t let me push them back.” He directed next.  As though my pulling had meant anything to him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’ve got to be kidding me.  If you want to move my hands, you will.” I crossed my arms.  This whole thing was entirely too uncomfortable.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Accurate, though not the purpose of this test.  I need to gauge your strength.”  He replied.  He stood there waiting patiently for me to comply.  It reminded me more of the Captain he’d once been.  The man Chris had looked up to...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“I don’t want to touch you, or for you to touch me while we’re on the topic.” I replied glancing away from him.  He wasn’t that man anymore, I knew that very well.  “You might not remember Rockfort that well, but I do.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>He’d done more than beat me, he’d taken Steve…that still hurt...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Rockfort has nothing to do with the present.  Your recovery will track better if you actively participate, unless you’d like to remain here longer than absolutely necessary.” He retorted with an edge of impatience.  He lacked an ounce of remorse or empathy for what he’d done.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>The idea of being stuck here, even if it was a clear manipulation, prompted me to reach up.  I failed to move his hands even a fraction of an inch even though I tried.  He might as well have been affixed to the spot like steel.  I let out a small frustrated sound and leaned back, exhausted from being so active just after waking.  “Happy now?”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“That I can finish your charting and get back to more productive work?” He remarked as he returned to the computer.  “Yes.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Asshole…</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“So, just tell me what you want then.” I commented.  I was too tired to sound as argumentative as I would like.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Nothing yet.  I enjoy the idea of being owed a favor.  One worth not just your life, but the interruption of an outbreak by your hands?” He smiled, switching off the monitor.  “Quite a debt.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You plan to keep me here then.” I reasoned, holding my head in my hands.  What had I done?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Headache?” He canted his head slightly as he spoke.  Then walked over to a drawer to lift a syringe out.  “Rest will help.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hard to want to sleep when I’ve been kidnapped by the worst B.O.W. known to man.” I said.  A fresh wave of wakefulness inspired by the needle in his hand.  My eyes darted between it and him.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not a concern then.  I don’t plan to keep you here, or anywhere.  You would make a general nuisance of yourself.  I have neither the desire or spare moments to babysit.  As soon as you are recovered, you’ll be returned to your...cozy living arrangements.” He said, walking over to prep my line to add the drug.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Then why help at all?” I scowled.  I didn’t like the idea of him pumping medication into my line, but I couldn’t stop him.  “I could just act like I don’t owe you anything.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“You could, but it’s not in your nature.” Wesker shrugged.  “Don’t fret, dear heart.  I’ll eventually come up with a way for you to reimburse my trouble.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>That’s what I was afraid of.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I couldn’t retort though.  The drug was already taking effect, sending me back toward that pleasant spiral of ignorant unawareness...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Present Day (2009):</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hated to admit it, but Albert Wesker was right.  If I just tortured him, then I was on a slippery slope of not actually being any better than him.  I couldn’t do that, I couldn’t be that.  I had to put rules in place.  He still deserved to be treated better than he would treat me if circumstances were reversed.  I didn’t remember much about the time he’d helped me, but he had actually been very professional when I was in his care to get rid of the infection.  I’d woken him up with literal holes in his flesh several times now.  Given the pain he seemed to be in...it was hard to complain about the busted ribs I got at Rockfort.  I couldn’t do more of this getting him up and just talking without trying to actually fix him, it wasn’t right.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Which left me picking up the pad of paper I’d brought for him.  I’d make a list.  Things he could expect as long as I could reasonably provide them.  Then, behaviors I expected in return.  I knew that his signature on a piece of yellow line paper wouldn’t mean anything to him.  Still, it meant something to me.  If I could get him to agree to some measure of regulation and sign off that he’d try to comply, then I would feel better about actually rousing him instead of trying to rent a bulldozer.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>End Chapter</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Claire is too good guy for her own good XD.  Wesker continues to Wesker...he's fun to write snark with.  It'll get snarkier when he's more conscious though.  Right now he's still got that whole mostly a corpse thing going on.  Thanks for the kudos and comments, I hope people continue to enjoy : )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Deer In The Headlights</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire continues to care for a steadily improving Wesker.  (He is basically a cat.)</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Met a girl with a graceful charm, but when beauty met the beast: he froze.  Got the sense I was not her type by the black eye and bloody nose, but I guess that’s the way it goes.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>-Owl City</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Wesker - Present Day (2009):</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you serious?” I couldn’t quite lift a brow at her request that I ‘sign’ my agreement to her little rule list.  I needed more facial control to express how futile her plan was.  It was still hard to breathe so my conversation was more clipped than I’d prefer.  “Why on earth...trust me to follow it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t...I just need something so I feel better about giving you the chance.” Claire stated hesitantly.  This had to have seemed better to her before she actually started presenting it to me.  “It’s the only way I’m going to give you food.  This is it, you agree to my terms or you just sleep forever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she had also brought in a soup of some kind, and the smell somehow had my overly dehydrated body salivating.  I stared at it as she started giving her terms.  I only heard some of them.  I wasn’t convinced she wasn’t enjoying the splitting needles sticking into my left eye now that I’d gotten just enough water for the nerves to start trying to regenerate.  Paying attention was difficult, even when there weren't painful popping sounds in my head of small fractures pushing back into place.  Not that I cared to listen.  Whatever her stipulations were didn’t really matter if I got to eat - if I got to heal.  I would have agreed to wear a pink tutu for the rest of my ‘eternal’ imprisonment if it meant the agony would recede.  I scribbled an A.W. instead of my name as best I could when she put a pen in my hand.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took the paper, setting it carefully on the side table.  As if it were a document that meant anything.  Signing it herself before reaching for the bowl, which was what actually mattered here.  I wasn’t delighted that she planned to feed me, but I doubted I could feed myself yet.  The indignity meant little when that first bit of salty broth touched my lips, never in my life had I so enjoyed a chicken noodle soup.  A few bites in and the pain had dulled, if only slightly...but she stopped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced toward her for the first time since I’d begun to eat and she jumped back, spilling some of the broth as she went.  Her face contorted in revulsion as she stared at the left side of my face, was it actively regenerating then?  My vision was blurring a little, and I couldn’t close the eye either.  So, it was steadily improving.  Was she watching it as it reformed?  Did she have to get so disturbed that she spilled my food?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope you plan to replace that.” I nodded toward the spill in distaste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She glanced slowly down, as if even realizing she was here for the first time since she’d leapt away.  Wincing when she looked up again.  “What?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you even vaguely capable, She-field?  What is wrong with you?” I snapped, my hunger speaking more than I should have let it.  “If you aren’t going to feed me, at least let me attempt to eat myself without throwing it on the floor.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you have any idea how gross this is?” She wrinkled her nose as she stepped forward to offer me the spoon again.  “I don’t even get how you are alive. Your face is a thing of nightmares...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here I thought most women found me attractive.” I remarked before getting another spoonful.  I was fine when she went quiet after the comment.  At least she was feeding me, and I’d gotten over the frustration at the gesture pretty quickly.  My vision was clearing up just a bit, so I could presume my eye continued to take shape, the area stung like mad, but it was less stabbing than it had been when she woke me.  I hadn’t had to stop to cough or pant through crackling lungs, so I was definitely regenerating faster than I would have before the accident.  Then, she stopped offering food and I narrowed my eyes at the lack of more.  It wasn’t enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need more.” I stated bluntly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.  Well, you can have mine.  I’m not gonna be eating after that.” She returned with the same lack of tact, walking to where she’d set a second bowl down.  By the time that was empty, I could see her fairly well, and my hand ached, but it was a slow burn compared to the inferno it had been.  She was staring at me after having finished, perhaps just now realizing she was in over her head, perhaps regretting her choice, perhaps trying to hold onto whatever food she’d previously eaten - I couldn’t tell.  All of the above were viable options.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, now that there wasn’t food readily available the tired was crashing back in.  The moment of clarity in my vision faltering when my lids, both of them began to droop.  I could regenerate very fast with little sustenance really, but it left me quite tired.  I wasn’t fully recovered, not yet...my chest and eye were much better but my hand still ached and it was missing skin and some muscle tissue.  Hopefully she’d wake me for the next meal.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Just what the fuck was Albert Wesker?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d known since Rockfort that he was superhuman, but over the past twenty four hours I’d seen him fully regenerate an eye and arm from nothing more than a few meals.  It was surreal, watching an eye reform a few feet away.  Not just that, but the skin around it, the lashes, the brows...everything.  I’d seen stuff like it on sci-fi tv before...but that didn’t prepare me to actually watch it in person.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he was actually up...that was perhaps the scariest thing so far.   I was watching him on a camera from the security room I’d made my makeshift bedroom.  How had he gone from missing parts of his body to being able to be on his feet in such a short time?  Was his DNA that effective at using the food and drink he took in?  He didn’t seem steady, but he managed to stand a moment before leaning back on the raised bed again.  It was incredible...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I should be sleeping, instead of stalking him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wanted to sleep, but it was not coming.  The image of his regenerating face kept flashing through my head whenever I closed my eyes.  What if he’d gotten stronger after the volcano?  Chris said he’d sucked a bunch of Uroborus up into his body like a damn virus sponge...that he’d mutated then.  Here now he was fine...he looked human outside the cat like eyes.  When he slept you couldn’t even see those, anyone that didn’t know him would think him just some random man that had been hurt or starved.  He could easily fool people into thinking he wasn’t a monster.  If he escaped I’d really regret not just pushing him back in the lava. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shook my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No, no.  I refused to think that way.  I wasn’t a murderer.  I couldn’t have just left him for dead.  Hell, I couldn’t even leave him suffering.  Wesker might mock me for it, and he definitely took advantage of it, but at the end of the day he was right: I am one of the good guys. </span>
</p><p><span>I sighed and rubbed my face, tired after the emotional day.  On the camera he was staring at his pants like they were a challenging puzzle to solve. He didn’t move to take off the tattered ‘shorts’ he still wore.  I’d never changed him out of the destroyed pants.  I doubted he could do it himself.</span><span><br/></span> <em><span>“Here, let me.” </span></em><span>The memory was matched with the lightest pressure of fingers on my back...</span></p><p>
  <span>He even glanced toward my door before pushing himself to a stand then almost immediately falling back to lean on the bed again.  He might have regenerated but his muscles were almost gone after his long stasis.  I realized he probably didn’t want me to watch him struggle.  That was logical enough, Wesker had been a prideful son of a bitch even when he was just a man.  Not being at the top of his game was probably a larger mental blow than any of the physical pain of his regeneration.  He managed to get the button loose on his shorts instead of standing.  He winced when he started to pull at them, unable to get them lower.  I frowned when I realized they adhered to his skin in the back.  I hadn’t noticed that before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let out yet another long breath.  I couldn’t just leave him.  It wasn’t a comfortable thought to help him with this sort of thing, but if I was doing this I couldn’t just shy away from difficult moments.  This would still be easier than when he gained strength.  I’d seen men and women naked helping in rounds before, and I was an adult.  I pushed myself out of my own cot and to my feet, heading back out to the main area.  Hitting the intercom, amused that his eyes shot to me at the sound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you need help, say help.” Yeah, I should help.  That didn’t mean I had to be nice about it.  “Bind your hands and I’ll come in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Volunteering to undress me already?” He retorted with his signature smirk after schooling the moment of surprise.  “Here I figured that would take at least a few more days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You did say you were irresistible." I returned drily.  I wasn't gonna be cowed by him.  He stared a moment then moved onto the stretcher/bed and put his hands in the cuffs.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How could I refuse my savior the privilege." He said after a moment, not as playful as his last remark.  He definitely wasn't at a hundred percent yet.  I hit the button to start the process of getting inside the cell.  He didn't move as I waited for the doors to raise and lower.  He was still by the time I had gotten inside.  At least if he fell asleep again this would be less awkward?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked deceptively like a normal guy when I approached.  His eyes were shut, which was fine with me.  I got to better assess him without him staring at me with angry cat irises.  His hair was uncharacteristically a mess.  He was definitely in need of a shower since there was still grime on some of his skin.  Had that been his plan if he was able to get the clothes off?  Thank god the shower area had a large bench.  I was not gonna be holding him up for that.  He would have just gone without or would have to settle for being hosed down...that was a criminal thing right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyes trailing down, the shorts he had on were previously the tight leather pants he preferred before the volcano.  They were in tatters now.  I suppose I probably shouldn’t have just left them on him.  Then, my priority had been getting him somewhere he didn’t pose a threat before making him comfortable.  It probably wouldn’t be good to leave them there, they looked almost sunken into his skin at a few spots on his back and front.  I expected that was why he’d had trouble taking them off himself.  All right, I could do this...just treat it like helping a victim at a camp...even if he was the one that helped create most of those victims…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I reached up to open the button, brushing dark soot from my fingers.  The zipper I had to brush off as well, as it was stuck...though I should have expected that since he’d spent months out there.  I scowled at it, jumping slightly when he spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This would be easier if you let my hands free.  Even after you undo the zipper, gravity would help get them down if I wasn’t lying horizontally.” He pointed out.  It was quite reasonable, and if he hadn’t been a mass murdering psychopath that was just as likely to put those hands around my throat I would have almost entertained the option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope.” I replied, more concerned with getting this done than bantering with him.  I had to really pull on this thing.  Eventually it gave way and my hand came free of the thin bit of metal when I’d gotten the zipper down.  His sharp intake of breath showed I’d perhaps I should have taken a bit more care in such a...sensitive area.  The red that had leaked into his normally sunny gaze a sign that he wasn’t all that pleased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why the fuck do you have to wear skin-tight clothes anyway?” I muttered even though he hadn’t actually said anything to me as I started to slowly roll the thick fabric down.  Thankfully it was tight, but once nice expensive soft briefs had stopped the fabric from fully adhering to all of his skin.  “You’re lucky it’s not more than the leather I’m peeling away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Briefs?  I would have pegged him for a boxer guy before now.  Then, he did seem to like that form fitting feel.  Wait...I am not thinking about the finer points of Wesker’s underwear.  This is too strange.  The leather had stuck to some parts of his thighs, but his unmentionables had been saved that indignity.  I’d deal with him also having underwear if I could get the leather off first.  Then, I couldn’t really keep rolling them, or check just how adhered they were behind him while he was laying on the stretcher.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shit…” I murmured, annoyed that he was right...this wasn’t happening while he was laying here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might as well let me up.  I’m not sure what you think I will do, She-field.” Wesker remarked, as if losing patience with me delaying the inevitable.  I scowled at him, about to bite out a nasty reply, but his head wasn’t even raised.  He was just eyeing me from where he lay, the scarlet color of his eyes having faded largely back into a dull wheat color.  He said ‘will’ but the implication was plain.  What ‘could’ he do right now?  His body had closed the wounds largely, but that didn’t mean he was fully healed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I earned a second moment of surprise when I hit the button to release the cuffs.  He had acted as though it was the only way, but hadn’t expected me to do it.  He had what then?  Figured I would just leave him again?  “I’m the good guy, remember.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” He made the noncommittal sound as I helped him sit up and move his legs to the floor.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some of it doesn’t seem that deep.” I remarked, pulling at the fabric lightly then jumping back when he let out a hiss of displeasure.  I wasn’t sure if he would throw me or do something even worse…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine, She-field.” He remarked, apparently finding my retreat funny.  He was enjoying that I was so nervous even when he was so hurt he could barely move.  “I can’t leave it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I know...but some of it is deeper.  I’m not a surgeon, I couldn’t exactly stitch you up.” How could his body not push this out?  Was it because of what level his powers were at?  Did he just regenerate too fast?  Huh…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bring me a scalpel, I’ll do it.” He huffed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’d be lucky if I brought you a needle, nothing sharp.” I returned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then rip it out and the flesh will mend.” He retorted.  “Just get it off of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be a brat.” I retorted.  “There might be some steri strips we could use to help keep the wounds shut if I can get the fabric out...hey, what are you!?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had plucked the combat knife from my belt with an easy grace.  I should have left it outside, no more entering to be helpful without making sure I was weaponless.  I’d backed several steps before realizing he hadn’t turned it on me, he’d leaned heavily on the bed to look at his legs to assess them.  Then slid it into his thigh with a grunt to start cutting the thick clothing free.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I winced at the pain that had to cause, nose wrinkling in distaste at the smell of copper that entered the air.  I didn’t want to get close while he had my knife.  “You...you’re hurting yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better than random objects festering under my skin.” He hissed back through clenched teeth.  He contorted sideways to try and reach his back after finishing with the front.  The wound he had caused was already starting to knit itself shut.  His regeneration ability was insane…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop...stop it.” I protested.  I walked up to grab his hand when he couldn’t quite reach a part and was just cutting needlessly into skin.  How could he even do this to himself.  “I’ll get it.  Just try to be...still.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His entire body went rigid when I grabbed him.  What muscles he had left coiling like a snake preparing to strike.  The slits of his scarlet eyes were narrower than usual.  For a split second, I was certain he was going to finish me off.  Just kill me right here without a fuck to spare.  Instead, he only stared for several grim seconds before releasing the weapon to me and turning so I could see the afflicted area of his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I did what I could to not visibly shutter.  Then, he could probably somehow smell fear.  I didn’t want to let him know just how much he managed to scare me.  I refused to let him best me, not again…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I leaned down to look at his legs.  This was nasty, but I wouldn’t be cowed. As gently as I could while not leaving material I cut free the leather from his leg.  He grunted when I made the first incision and I saw him dig his fingers into the now soiled bedding.  Otherwise, he was quiet as I got the foreign matter free of his flesh.  He was bleeding heavily by the time I finished, but the lines were already starting to close, albeit much more slowly than before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You should have let me find other supplies." I chided when I realized they probably wouldn’t completely shut.  "You aren't regenerating as quickly."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You could provide more sustenance. " He suggested with clipped words.  "You obviously have seen that food or drink promotes healing."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"We are on a budget." I frowned at him when he glanced back.  Though I was silently pleased he wasn't outright glaring.  "I don't know when we will get more supplies, and I would rather not starve myself.  I will leave my canteen with you so you can have water when you want it.  I’ll have to search the place a little more to see if there’s anything actually in a pantry that’s canned.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Spencer had a wine cellar.  Should be somewhere on the floor above us assuming the BSAA didn’t clean it out.” Wesker replied.  “It’s not preferred, but better than nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right...I will look for it, but first let me at least wrap this.” I left my canteen nearby as I ripped some of the non soiled part of the sheet to use as a makeshift bandage.  He didn’t press me, so apparently my agreeing to find him alcohol had soothed him for the moment.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You are here alone." His observation was almost as frightening as his ire.  "Your brother left you to deal with me all by yourself."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least he was wrong about Chris, but Wesker was still too clever for his own good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would you prefer Chris?" I muttered as I tightened the strip of fabric.  My brother’s name earned me a dirty look just before he grunted when I pulled the strip of fabric taunt.  I might have been just a </span>
  <em>
    <span>-little-</span>
  </em>
  <span> happy about that particular poke, served him right. "I am here, and I think I have been pretty generous.  Do you want to wash up now or wait till morning?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesker tiredly nodded, which didn’t really answer my either/or question.  " You are the preferred Redfield, I am merely surprised he wouldn't want me buried completely.  Is that your doing?"</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I said I don't owe you anymore, in case you missed that detail." I shrugged at him.  "If you want to talk more about your imprisonment instead of showering then this will wait until morning…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” He caught my hand this time, though it was very short.  I ripped it away from him and held the knife up.  Instinct told me to bury it in his eye, but I settled for just glaring when he perked a brow at my display.  “I’d rather get clean.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d hoped he let me go...but given the mess of blood on his bed, and down his legs...I knew I wouldn’t be sleeping soon anyway.  I really had to start keeping medical supplies to bring in with me when I came to visit.  I’d picked this though, being his personal keeper.  I didn’t get to decide to just ignore him.  It was like having a demanding pet.  I was tired, emotionally spent, but I couldn’t just not feed the cat.  I’d never get any sleep that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This may not have been what either of us had in mind when he’d helped me, but I guess this was paying back what I owed for having my life saved.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Happy Thanksgiving to all those that celebrate it.  I hope you have a safe holiday and remain plague free.  Wesker got to have chicken noodle soup?  LOL.  I am amused there's so much obsession with eating right around this holiday.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Wolf In Sheep's Clothing</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wesker takes a shower and continues to recover.  He remembers previous interactions with Claire from his mortal days.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>Tell me how you're sleeping easy</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>How you're only thinking of yourself</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Show me how you justify</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Telling all your lies like second nature</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Listen, mark my words, one day</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>You will pay, you will pay</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Karma's gonna come collect your debt</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>-Set It Off</b>
  <b>
    <em>, Wolf In Sheep’s Clothing</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>Wesker - Present Day (2009):</b>
</p><p>
  <span>"Let's get this over with."  Claire sighed, lowering the knife she had been ready to wield against me.  She was wound up so tight.  If I didn’t require her help, I would have been more entertained by her bouncing around like a nervous mouse.  If she was this on edge when I couldn’t do anything...would she just stop visiting entirely once I had recovered enough to stand without help?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, she clearly didn't want to be here.  She had been quick to point out her having paid back my services years ago.  I was conscious and wasn't dead yet.  So, I could only presume she had talked her brother out of shooting me into space.  It was a strange sentiment, her keeping me alive out of guilt. I might have expected an ill-placed sense justice from a few of the ex-S.T.A.R.S. members.  Not a girl I’d beaten senseless once, even if I’d later saved her life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're skin and bones, how are you heavy?" She grumbled the complaint as she helped me stumble over to the shower.  I didn’t reply, focused on actually getting my feet to drag themselves forward.  Moving was rough, the room spinning as I was dropped onto the stone bench inside the shower area.  I had taken more care with her when I cured her.  Did she have to toss me about?  If my body wasn't making use of the food I’d had today, it probably would have come back up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hey, don't pass out on me! " She nudged my foot with hers.  "I can't carry you back with no help at all."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I opened my eyes, annoyed that there were two of her staring back at me.  Had her dumping me off interfered with the recovery of my left eye?  She seemed to be at least semi-genuine in wanting to help.  Had Chris known she would be this horrible at nursing anyone and assigned her on purpose?  I wouldn’t put it past him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Blood loss." I let my left eye shut again.  I could only take one harpy screeching right now.  "The cuts are still bleeding.  I need protein, or at least calories.   Soup isn't doing much."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could feel the warm scarlet liquid drizzling along my calves.  This woman had trained in medicine?  How couldn’t she tell I would be woozy after losing that much blood?  Then, she knew I wasn’t exactly human...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Look, let me see what I can find." She was actively avoiding looking at me since I was undressed.  "Here, I will leave the shower on."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She reached over to turn the knob.  I frowned at her since it was cold, but kept my distaste unspoken.  Thankfully it started to warm as she headed back out of my cell, presumably to gather food or something to clean up the gory mess left near my sleeping arrangement.  I leaned into the spray gratefully.  The hot water made dozens of small injured areas along my body sting.  It was a cleansing pain.  The water smelled all right so I took several drinks, glad for my body's ability to use any sort of sustenance so well.  The extra hydration helped push away some of the clouds that had rolled into my head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I slowly lifted my arms to scrub at my hair, to get the dirt and gore caked into it free.  This was the single best shower I ever had.  Getting the grime off was almost as rejuvenating as drinking the water itself.  I didn't even realize when Claire had reentered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a while, she had nearly finished mopping my blood and had changed the bedding while I enjoyed the first shower I’d had in literal months.  She didnt notice me watching, her brow furrowed as she scrubbed at the rust colored stains.  She was at least dedicated to making me somewhat comfortable.  I might be able to work with that.  Then, she was not looking at me.  Was she afraid or aroused?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Preferably both…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My hopes to use any feelings against her fell away when I saw she had managed to bring more food.  There was a sandwich on a plate in the door that had several layers of meat.  Food was the only thing that could have tempted me from the warm stream of cleanliness.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"She-field." Her shoulders flexed as fingers tightened on the mop handle.  "Could you turn it off?  I’m done for now."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She just set the bucket aside and moved up, turning the water off before handing over a towel.   Still not looking.  I admit I wasn't at peak condition at the moment , but this wasn't the grossed out overreaction from watching my regeneration.  She was embarrassed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"My nudity getting to you, dear heart?"  Her almost chastity was rich.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I just don't want to stare, it is rude." She shrugged, but kept her gaze averted.  "I wouldn't want someone staring at me."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"You're welcome to look.  I expect the view will continue to improve." I smirked at the eyeroll that comment earned as I dried off.  My skin and scalp felt immensely better.  At least Spencer had left a setup that allowed for proper hygiene.  Perhaps in a few days I’d even be feeling more like myself...though without PG67 I didn’t have a shot of escaping this reinforced cell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Here."  She was holding out the plate with the food toward me as I finished drying my hair.  I accepted the food, unconcerned with the way she paled when I set the towel on my shoulders.  Food was infinitely more important than the younger Redfield.  I devoured it as she returned to tidying so she could take the soiled linens with her.  Clean hair and fresh sheets?  Jail or not, my best day since the volcano.  </span>
</p><p> <span>I finished the plate in short order, then resisted the temptation to lick at crumbs.  This was the closest I had been to sated since I woke.  She retrieved the plate to put with other goods exiting the cell.  </span></p><p>
  <span>"Okay, let's get you dressed." She sighed, offering an arm to help me back over to the bed.  I took it, though I didn’t need to stumble as much this time and I wasn’t seeing double when I leaned on the raised platform.  Progress, at least…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She had clothes nearby and picked up briefs from the top.  Bending down to help me get them on my legs.  Some jean shorts followed, not my usual choice of dress, but better than nothing.  I smirked at her as she tugged them up around my waist, amused slightly as opposed to offended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Care to zip them while you’re at it?  It’ll be just like prom.” I remarked, earning a surprised expression.  Had she thought I’d forgotten about that night?  I winced when she grazed a little too close to sensitive parts tugging the zipper into place. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go to sleep, Wesker.  Then I can do the same.” She didn’t take my bait.  She walked off to pick up her basket and start the process of leaving the cell.  I watched after her a moment then shoot my head to look at the shirt she’d left.  I left it to lay down, I could deal with the shirt and my captor later.  I needed more rest to fuel recovery...</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Claire-</b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I should have gone to bed, not gotten up to help him.  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a quiet mantra I had while I scrubbed the floor and did my best not to look at Wesker just lounging in the shower.  He was still too normal looking for his own good, even emaciated he had attractive qualities.  Too bad it was all physical and he was certifiable beneath that exterior.  I busied myself with the cleaning until he called me over.  He was staring at the food, which is what I expected prompted his request to end his shower.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded, picking up one of the towels I’d brought in.  Walking over to turn off the water and hand it toward him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My nudity getting to you, dear heart?” He was definitely enjoying my lack of comfort in playing his caretaker.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want to stare, it is rude.” I replied with the only good excuse I had.  “I wouldn’t want someone staring at me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re welcome to look.  I expect the view will continue to improve.” I rolled my eyes at his confidence.  He couldn’t walk on his own, yet still had no shame.  I used the time while he was drying off to carry over the food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here.” I nearly dropped it when he let the towel slide to his shoulders.  His hair having returned to the stark blonde was a shock.  It was much more his normal shade than when I’d done a small cleaning before.  He had felt somehow less of a threat when he didn’t really look like himself.  I walked off as he started to eat, glad he didn’t have other snide remarks for me.  I wanted to get this place tidy so I could avoid it for a while.  I needed to sleep on everything that had happened lately.  I had a weak series of papers in my room, it seemed rather silly now.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s get you dressed.” I stated after retrieving the plate to add to my pile of things to take out.  I wanted gone as soon as I could be gone.  He had an easier time making his way back to his bed, food really did help him improve impossibly fast.  I moved to help him dress, glad I was quite tired.  This way, I didn’t have to focus on it too much.  I got his underwear on and the shorts mostly in place when he just had to make another remark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Care to zip them while you’re at it?  It’ll be just like prom.” He commented.  I stared a moment, I was shocked he even remembered that...event.  I pulled the zipper up with little care if it did damage, glad when he winced just slightly.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, so even as a good guy I might enjoy when I get to get a few hits in myself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just go to sleep, Wesker.  Then I can do the same.” I said, trying not to huff.  I left him by the bed and went to grab the basket and leave the cell.  I was delighted to be rid of him for a while.  He was frustrating to deal with.  Did he have to bring up one of the few times we had met in his human days?  If he hadn't been so obnoxious I would say he was just trying to manipulate me.  Then, he could still be...I had been left with a fairly positive opinion of him the first night we met…</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Claire’s Prom night (1996) </b>
  <b>
    <em>Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The large gym glittered in all the fabricated glamour girl imaginations could generate.  A large hand-painted sign proclaimed; ‘Class of 1996’ where it hung near the entrance to the prom.  There was a station to take pictures with goofy props and a line of snacks along with what a punch bowl some deviant had likely already spiked with alcohol.  Kids were laughing and chatting and a few were even actually dancing to the rock-pop the D.J. had on speakers.  I eyed them with distaste from one of the side areas.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>A doctor and a military officer with years of experience in both fields, and I’m stuck playing mall cop for a high school dance like a rookie…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Other members of the force had weaseled their way into either other work or had requested time off well in advance.  I hadn’t really thought about the city requesting someone work the dance itself.  Couldn’t they have hired a security officer?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let out a light sigh when I saw a boy following one of the girls down a side hall...time to work.  I pushed off the wall and slipped around the teenagers as I moved to the same side door, moving into one of the darkened halls of the school.  Really, these kids needed to just go park somewhere if they wanted to make out.  If it wasn’t on my shift, then I wouldn’t need to pay close attention to it.  I heard the girl giggling around one of the halls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, just let me get my lip gloss.” She was saying, but was interrupted by a slam of metal.  “Hey, don’t do that.  You aren’t funny Nathan, get off.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rounding the corner, she was pinned close against the wall of lockers by a boy a good six inches taller than she was.  Her back was to him and he was pulling the zipper down on the back of her dress.  I walked forward, about to call out for the kid to stop his behavior.  Then, I didn’t need to.  Her head slammed back and up - into his nose with a sharp crack that made me smile.  Good for her.  He let go, hissing in pain and probably would have cursed aloud had she not followed her headbutt by rounding on him with a punch to his already injured nose and then a kick between his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I said: Get the fuck off!” She repeated, dodging him when he reached toward her.  A third ‘tap’ to his probably broken nose and he backed off, holding the bleeding with one hand. “You think I can’t kick your ass just cause you’re on the football team?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine, shit...you are crazy Redfield.  No wonder the others told me it was a waste of time to ask you.” The man spit blood at her, and was just starting to turn when I set a hand on his shoulder so he couldn’t leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on here?” I knew, but I was curious what they would say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Officer Wesker.” The boy's eyes lit up slightly.  He was related to one of the officials I had to work with from time to time.  He must have thought I was on daddy’s payroll.  “This girl just assaulted me.  Arrest her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This pervert thought he could have his way with me.  He’s the one that needs to be arrested.  Or I could just kick his ass more.” The girl bit back immediately, and had I not held a hand up she probably would have followed through on that threat given the way she glared at him.  The boy slipped slightly behind me.  I really could go without the teenage drama, but at least it was somewhat more entertaining than guarding the punch bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sexual assault is a serious charge.  It would look quite bad on your father, elections coming up.” I pointed out to the boy, who had started to sweat in his nervousness.  “Turn around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?  She is the one that…” He paused when I slammed him into the lockers by his face.  Probably was less fun being on the opposite end of that gesture, better if he remembered that.  I put the cuffs on his wrists as he started to push off the lockers and I slammed him back into them a second time.  Blood was still seeping from his nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Resisting arrest.” I remarked, at least I could have a bit of fun.  I never liked his dad anyway, apples rarely fell far.  “Unwise.  You have the right to remain silent…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I started the usual rights, going through them as the boy seemed to finally realize he might have to pay for his actions.  I doubted much would come from it, but at least this was something else we could hold over his father to maintain his votes in important legislation.  Once I finished his rights and pressed a towel to his face I turned to the girl, who was at her locker failing to reach for her dress zipper he’d pulled down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Redfield the boy had called her.  Chris’ younger sister?  He had a picture of her on his desk, but with her hair all pulled up and fancy I hadn’t immediately recognized her in this dark hallway.  She looked annoyed more than frightened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you all right, Miss Redfield?” I asked, pushing the boy again.  “You wait down the hall there.  If you make me chase you, I won’t be gentle next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He offered me a ‘that was gentle?’ terrified expression as he walked that way.  Good, the terror would inspire him to behave.  I paused near the girl to look her over for any obvious signs of damage.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.  Just annoyed for accepting the douchebag’s invitation in the first place.” She replied, and I chuckled at her remark when she seemed to realize who she was talking to.  “Thanks uh, for helping.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not sure you needed me to interject.  Would you like me to fix your dress?” I nodded to where she was trying to hold it shut behind her.  She nodded in embarrassment and I reached out to fix the fastener on the back of her formalwear.  “Do you need a ride home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I don’t want to be an inconvenience, Captain Wesker.” She said nervously.  She recognized me as her brother’s boss then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting attacked isn’t exactly a bother for me, Miss Redfield.” I retorted, shaking my head.  What had Chris told her about me?  “If you’d rather go home I can provide you a ride before I book the loser there.  If you’d rather not ride in the same vehicle, I understand.  I can call someone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you need me to come in to press charges?” She asked, wringing her dress’ skirt in her hands.  “I’d uh, rather not cause Chris any trouble.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I can charge him without you present.” I didn’t want her there anyway, it would make using this as a poker chip a little more difficult.  “Are you sure I can’t do anything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, thanks.  But I’m okay.  I would have liked to beat him a little more.” She said with a smug smile I could appreciate.  “I have friends here though, so I can get a ride home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right.  Enjoy the rest of your dance then, Miss Redfield.” I answered, walking back toward the boy.  Amused at the way he jumped to my voice, “Did I tell you to lean on the wall?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The night wouldn’t be an entire bore.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>Present Day (2009) Claire - </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Sleep had been badly needed.  I was so exhausted I’d managed to keep a dreamless unconscious until I slowly woke up without any alarms or people interrupting me.  I wasn’t sweating through my sheets, actually it was a bit chilly.  The cold was what reminded me of where I was now; a far cry from my tent in Africa.  I let out a yawn as I stretched, if I got to sleep in every single day then perhaps it wouldn’t be awful to play caretaker to the master necromancer.  I pushed myself up and hit the button to turn the screen on.  Wesker was still resting as well, or at least he was on the bed and he didn’t seem to be moving.  Just as well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I did the usual routine and headed upstairs since I needed to make food.  My legs were already sore from the descent yesterday.  So I took the elevator, but I’d definitely get a good work out living four floors below most of the areas I’d need to use multiple times a day if I wanted to.  I got some food started in the kitchen, looking out the window over a vast forest.  This place was definitely remote.  I glanced at my phone and the lack of bars wasn't encouraging.  Then, I had a satellite phone, I just wasn’t sure yet if I should actually call Chris.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>How had Wesker come off as such a good person back when he was alive?  Before all this madness started.  How did he manage to fool all of us?  The whole S.T.A.R.S. team?  I remember Chris and Jill largely speaking well of him.  He’d been strict but fair when he was their boss.  How did he end up like this?  He had been raised by Umbrella psychos according to Chris...so that was definitely part of it.  Yet, he still had convinced himself that murdering most of the planet was a great idea.  He might have been knocked a couple pegs down by his time in the volcano, but I doubted near death experiences were a cure for a god complex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t let myself get taken in by him.  I was his guard, not his friend.  Men like Albert Wesker didn’t have friends.  They didn’t understand people beyond the need to use them as tools.  His occasional kindness or politeness was just dangerous, it made it easy to convince others he wasn’t an insane beast.  The camouflage was effective...it would have been easier to just leave him if he was a raging transformed monster like most other B.O.W.’s.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This wasn’t something I could, or should try to handle on my own anymore.  It was too easy to possibly be fooled by him, he was also only gaining in strength.  I had to try to contact Chris, which I was pretty hesitant about.  I knew he wouldn’t be happy I’d let Wesker live, much less nursed him back to health.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I guess I could glaze some details…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I set some tea on and put covers over the food so I could dig out the satellite phone, dialing and trying to listen to the tone through the static.  I bit my lip as I waited, a little relieved it went to a machine.  “Hey Chris, ah.  I need to talk to you, but I’m a little busy.  Can you get my location from Leon and come by when you have a minute?  There’s something you need to know about.  That I need to show you.  Love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt a little strange turning the call off…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t know when Chris would get to it, but if Leon told him what was happening then I could expect him pretty soon.  I’d just try again another time.  I lifted the food and headed back toward the elevator.  I had to give the inmate his breakfast before I could dive into other parts of my day.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Took me a little longer to post since I was busy with the holiday.  Always happy with Wesker in the shower though, I will try to make sure he ends up there in all my fics I think XD.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chrome</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire is convinced to aid Wesker in getting him drugs to 'help stabilize his virus being contagious' and Wesker suffers the consequences of not having full control over his bodies reaction to the many bio-weapons floating in his blood.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“Sense fear in your broken breathing.  Resort to shadows till your body expires.  All creation has the promise of heaven, and still you travel the road to hell.  I’m saying nothing for the good of myself, but I’m still talking and you’re not listening.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>-VNV Nation, Chrome</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Claire (Present Day (2009) A couple days later:</b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...just get him some drugs Claire.  A few chemicals...no harm to be done.  Couldn’t possibly start up a world wide pandemic of zombies and monsters...not like he’s ever managed that before.” I spoke to myself in annoyance as I checked the label on the next drug on the list Wesker had given me.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why did I let myself be talked into this again?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>There were lots of reasons to be here in the medical office collecting his supplies...didn’t mean I had to like it.  I shook my head as I finished gathering the various innocent looking plastic and glass bottles of liquids and dusts.  I rubbed the bridge of my nose in irritation, pausing to sip from my water and glance at the door.  I couldn’t wait all too long...I knew it would be more difficult to do this if Chris or Leon did show up.  It would be hard enough to convince Chris not to murder Wesker outright - or at least not to try.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This was a mess.  I’d bitten off more than I could chew.  It was like that time I’d tried to adopt the kitten I’d found outside the apartment.  Only, this one had deadlier claws and when he made a mess it tended to reach worldwide.  I couldn’t keep a cat well when I was a kid, and apparently I shouldn’t have tried to adopt Wesker now.  I frowned as I thought over what had led me to collecting medicine for the terrorist.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Earlier that morning...</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re really unnerving, you know that right?” I asked, swallowing my terror as best I could when I entered his cell.  He was on the raised platform that doubled as his bed, hands bound, but his head was canted to watch me enter.  How was he already this healed?  I was pretty certain he was already gaining back a little muscle and I know he wasn’t working out.  Was that possible?  Apparently for super zombies...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh?  Do I frighten the brave Claire Redfield?”  I did what I could not to wince at the way he drawled out my name.  I really had to track down sunglasses for him, those had been a surprisingly apt choice of fashion accessory given what he looked like now.  “Even in this state?  I’m flattered.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What state?  You look pretty amazing for a guy that was effectively dead last week.” I frowned at his comment as I walked to set his plate on the table I reserved for it.  Picking up the books he’d left, had he already gone through that many?  How fast did he read anyway?  Then, he was a mad genius, I shouldn't be surprised he would average a book a day.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I knew you’d come around to my being devilishly handsome.”  He remarked.  His unnatural gaze followed me as I went to put new clothes for him in the single set of drawers built into the cell.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Devilish anyway," I snorted lightly, he definitely hadn’t lost that god complex despite a dip in some lava.  "However you work, you stopped being human before you even transformed."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"It is working out, as you said: I am impressive, for a corpse.  Why would I want to be human?"  He shrugged, not the least chided by my disapproval.  I didn't expect he would be.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I dunno, because at least at some point you were a semi-decent guy?"  I gathered up dirty clothes and linens.  "You don't get admired as you did, not if you are entirely fake.  Not that it matters since you are stuck here now."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Eternal imprisonment, rather a difficult task when the jailer has a limited life span."  Wesker observed.  I hadn't thought about that before.  He was right though...I couldn't assure his punishment would last if he was really immortal now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Guess you shouldn't have tried to murder most of the population." I replied, not getting into logistics with him.  "That or actually melted in that lava, that would have been better."</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"I get the feeling you don't like me, dear heart."  His false sincerity was grating me more than usual today.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>"Were you always this obnoxious?" I was second guessing my earlier comment about his being admired.  Maybe everyone at STARS was just stupider than I thought, I was a dumb teenager, what was their excuse?  "I am about to go so you can eat, any requests for things I might find for my lunch visit later, inmate?"</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He watched me silently a moment before he answered, his voice losing the snide edge, then he let his eyes slide shut, as though he were tired.  “I need a list of chemicals.  I left it in the top book.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ha, yeah right.” I laughed.  “Even if I just had science supplies on hand, I wouldn’t hand any over to you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Much of the mansion appears to have been left intact by what I’ve seen you moving in and out.  It’s likely everything I would need would be in the chemical closet near the main lab.  It should be on this floor.” He explained, not reacting to my immediate refusal.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve done enough exploring of Umbrella facilities for a lifetime.” I retorted, flipping open the book just to humor him.  I wasn’t sure how to pronounce a good portion of the list, though the few names I did recognize weren’t immediately harmful from what I knew.  “Besides, I’m not getting you any.  I’ll find you some more books.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to take medicine.  It helps me control the mutation.” He replied, glancing between me and his food.  Probably not sure if he’d rather argue this later and eat now.  “Without it, my regeneration will cause things like seizures or a number of other unwanted side effects.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could use a few seizures.  Might help your brain gain the ability to have empathy.” I retorted, walking away from him.  “I’ll release you when I get out of the cell.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The drug also keeps me from spreading the virus in my system to others I scratch or bite, like any creature with this strain.”  He remarked as I set the books in my basket of stuff to take out with me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah right.” I said immediately.  “Nice try.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t answer.  I didn’t expect him to really give up that immediately, then I heard the high pitched scrape of metal on metal.  I turned expecting to have to defend myself, then dropped my basket as I realized he wasn’t looking at me.  His body was taunt and shuttered, his eyes rolled back so I could only see the whites.  He had just mentioned seizures...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit…” I dropped stuff by the door, walking a few steps closer as his body shook on the metal.  He was twisting to the left, taunt but shaking.  If it wasn’t for the restraints he would have fallen off, but they were also cutting into his wrists.  I grit my teeth, not able to intervene.  Even if I walked up to let him go he could kill or maim me without meaning to just if one of his limbs went wild.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The metal bent as his out-of-control body strained against it, blood seeping along the side of the raised platform.  Blonde locks falling out of place as his body twitched and shuddered uncontrollably.  I only thought to possibly time how long he’d been shaking after it had stopped.  His body didn’t move, his restraints the only thing holding him against gravity.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Great...what the fuck is wrong with you now?” I scowled, reaching for the broom to use the handle to prod him back into a position where he wouldn’t fall if I let the restraints go - which I waited on.  Had he faked it to make a point?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>No, I’d seen seizures before.  That was authentic or he was the best actor around to put himself through that without betraying anything.  I stared in annoyance, what the hell was causing him to seize?  We had no history of him doing so, not that I was aware of.  He’d said he would without the drug to control his powers...but how long had he possessed that drug?  I didn’t really have his medical record...not that I expected I could decipher it to help much...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Then, all the various wounds and healing without any medications, particularly blood thinners...it wouldn't be that odd if he possessed areas of clots that released and stuffed up the pipes in his skull.  He was barely breathing, but that was a sign the event hadn’t killed him.  If the volcano didn’t then a little issue with his brain probably wouldn’t.  Not that we needed a B.O.W. of his capacity with brain damage, lord knows there’s enough wrong with his head already…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least the restraints had mostly worked...though if he just ripped his hands off they wouldn’t do much, and I already knew he could regenerate limbs.  Speaking of which, his flesh was starting to reknit around the restraint itself...gross.  I sighed and stepped closer, knowing it would be better to move it now than wait and have to cut him open again.  Ready to run like someone lighting a whole warehouse of fireworks I reached up to hit the button that pulled the restraints back into the table.  I immediately dashed backward, not wanting to deal with that possible explosion when he grunted.  I stared, half expecting him to come up and at me, memories of him rushing me and throwing me around like a ragdoll flickering through my head.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What...happened?” He asked, not opening his eyes.  He’d probably heard me skitter away.  His breathing was a bit unsteady, probably his arm still half-ripped open...though it was already starting to regenerate.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You seized.” I pointed out.  The quiet that dropped after I answered him was awkward...I just wanted to get the hell out of here again.  Why couldn’t he just act like a normal prisoner?  Why did he have to seize and rip his veins open?  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Why did he have to be a worthless piece of shit in the first place?  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Why is he so quiet?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s the fourth time in as many days.” He finally answered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Uh-huh.” I said skeptically.  “Magical timing, not manipulative at all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If I was just trying to convince you realistically, do you think I’d choose just then?” He hissed, eyes slightly red when he opened them.  “What good would that do me?  A little heavy handed for a guy that spent two years playing double agent isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had a point…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Chris told me before, about the drug you used to enhance your powers, some weird series of numbers and letters.  I’m not gonna help you do that.  I have no reason to believe this little act.” I shook my head.  “You’re also really good at pushing people’s buttons.  I haven’t seen you seize before now.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Not that I spent my time out of the cell really watching him…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Much...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, the idiot wouldn’t understand what he was poisoning me with.”  He laughed bitterly.  “Do you really think it was more than a control substance?  If it actually enhanced my abilities we wouldn’t be here.  It lets me better focus, that’s all.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, if it lets you do stuff you wouldn’t otherwise do...that sounds like an enhancer to me.  If you aren’t as strong without it, I’d rather you be without it.” I pointed out.  “Besides, if the only point was to help your focus, then it wouldn’t poison you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll try to explain this in layman's terms.” He was frowning at me now, though at least his eyes had returned to gold instead of crimson.  “Why does your body slow and react poorly when you take a muscle relaxer?  It doesn’t fully stop you, but it makes your muscles untense so you aren’t as strong.  This works in a somewhat similar way...it slows the virus but only enough so I can focus where my strength is aimed.  If I end up taking in too much, then the virus is weakened.  My body doesn’t know how to react to that...it is always fighting and then suddenly has nothing to fight so it attacks itself.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was a viable excuse.  He was being overbearing and insufferable as usual...but I could see the science in what he was explaining.  From what I knew of his fight with Chris, it did mostly fit...and if it also controlled his virus being contagious…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Hour - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’d finally agreed to help him.  Not for him or his pain at this point...he was swiftly reminding me each conversation we had how much he’d earned some.  It was because if he could possibly infect others that made him very dangerous even if he had less control as an alternative.  It might all be a load of shit, but i couldn’t risk him spreading the virus, particularly if I got scratched or something in one of his seizures.  I had to go along even if I didn’t trust him.  I stopped near the intercom in my room to hit it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“All right, this is how this is gonna go, Wesker.” I stated, watching him glance up from one of the books in his cell.  “You’re gonna walk me through every step of this process and I’m gonna do it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not sure you can pronounce half the ingredients, more or less understand what’s actually happening.  Did you even pass high school chemistry?” He asked.  I scowled at the screen, dick.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes.  I did well in all my medical and science courses.” I returned.  “If I don’t understand something then you’ll have to figure out a way to use those layman’s terms you seem so good at.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was silent, as if chewing over what I’d offered.  He clearly didn’t like it, but he didn’t have the power here.  If it were up to me he never would.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agreed.” He finally said.  “Get it set up and I’ll walk you through it.  You have all the chemicals and tools I asked for?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I do...it’ll be arranged here in a minute.” I turned the com off, not caring to hear whatever quip he had to offer.  I had to set all this up and get it done.  I definitely didn’t like any of this...but it was just what I had to do.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day - Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire Redfield playing lab assistant might have been more entertaining if it wasn’t such a part of my ongoing health and comfort.  Or if her slightest mistake wouldn’t leave me in exceptional pain once I administered the mixture she was working on.  At least she seemed to have brought the supplies she had on hand.  That should let me create enough for a few weeks then hope her outside contact could get her more.  That or escape before the need for it...though I wanted to play along for now.  If I could get her to trust me, to grow complacent, an escape would eventually happen.  I couldn’t rush.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>At least she was following my directions well and taking steps to make sure her measurements were precise.  She’d been convinced quicker than I expected, though my unfortunate episode had somehow managed to help my case.  I hadn’t wanted to seize in front of her at all, I disliked the idea of her constantly seeing me in this weakened state...but her ongoing fear made it more tolerable.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She was almost adorable when she ran from me, even when I was an unmoving corpse I inspired terror.  I wasn’t going to object to that.  She listened to my directions well enough at least, her glares at my various observations amusing.  I had to admit, she had a fire I enjoyed.  She wasn’t unlike the lesser Redfield at times in stubbornness, but she was more aesthetically pleasing.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Just be careful as you mix it.  If it’s too thick, it’ll cause the same seizing issue.”  I remarked as she finished with the previous step.  It was nearly ready now, it’d taken on a little of a pink hue and once she mixed it it should take on the deeper red I was accustomed to.  If it worked, this would be a lovely break from the pain and the fog in my head the virus usually caused.  I was very ready for that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I think I already told you how I feel about you seizing.” She retorted harshly, but was stirring the concoction gently all the same.  For all her bravado, she was a soft creature beneath the carapace.  She wouldn’t have saved me in the first place otherwise, regardless of our past.  I grinned just a moment when I saw it reach the peak color.  “There, that.  That should work.  Bring it in.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I need to get your food first.”  She lifted the safety goggles she’d been wearing to frown at me.  “You know, you’re really more demanding than a cat.  At least they can’t talk.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Bring me that and I’ll purr for you all you want, dear heart.” I remarked, amused at the blush that came to her face.  A little heavy handed flirting rarely hurt with the fairer sex.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I also really wanted that vial in her hand.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well.  Let me gather up everything else.”  She set the vial into the protective container I’d had on my list of supplies before pocketing it.  Then left me to my own devices as she went to gather whatever else she planned to bring into my cage.  I didn’t like having to wait...but I could.  That dose was only enough to last me a day or two...I’d have to convince her to make more.  Thus far she’d been compliant despite her displeasure at needing to help me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I hadn’t been completely honest with her about the compound.  It did basically function as an enhancer.  As a method to best control my abilities, it did make them stronger.  However, it didn't really stop me passing the virus to others, which was what she was most concerned with.  I had never really had the issues of other tyrants in being contagious.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My particular DNA and Virus just lacked the option from what I could tell in previous tests.  It was why I’d had to find Uruborus in the first place.  I’d managed to keep that particular fact to myself for many years.  Which was paying off now,  she wouldn’t have agreed without the deception.  Her pity and guilt were both going to run dry sooner or later.  Given how swiftly she had stated a lack of concern for my seizures, I could expect the well was low already, I had to make use of them while I could.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>About to return to reading, as I had little else to pass the time, I was surprised when I heard the mechanism for the first door click.  I canted my head when I saw Claire outside, she didn’t have a meal - or her usual basket of goods for that matter.  She was holding her side and there was a bloody knife in her hand.  Had someone else found this place?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The question answered itself when a large rat launched itself into the entry space with her, it was not normal by any means.  It had longer fangs and spikes sticking from its sides, obviously transformed in some way.  It matched other bio-weapon tests I’d seen on such creatures.  The black tendrils replacing some of the fur made it clear Uroborus was involved.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A second rat ran in as she was still trying to ward off the first, then a third...five made it into the space with her before the door shut.  There were another dozen or more still outside the cell, prowling like hungry dogs and scratching where the reinforced polymer door had closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire kicked one of the rats still trapped with her in the face, slamming it into the opposite wall of the small enclosure, she managed to get the kitchen knife into the skull of the second.  She even somehow skittered to the side of other bites to start the second gate before one got a good grip on her boot.  I stalked over to where the doors would eventually - at least hopefully - open into my cell.  It wouldn’t do if my only keeper ended up dead.  Discovering the cause of the small outbreak would have to wait, but I had a sinking feeling fate had made me accidentally honest about possible contagious issues in my DNA.  I had absorbed a lot of Uruborus before falling into the lava...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The rat she’d kicked across the room was still getting up as others snapped at her, growling with shimmering eyes at her as they raised hackles.  She killed the one that had gotten ahold of her boot.  It’s blood flowing slowly down the glass wall. The remaining three were still moving to circle her, but had hesitated.  They’d maintained enough awareness to realize she’d already murdered two of them.  Interesting.  Uruborus was quite impressive then...at least in this strain.  The second door was moving painfully slow as she waved her knife at any that got a bit close.  The standoff only lasted until she backed into the final space, the final door separating them from me.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They ran forward together.  She batted one away with the knife, taking one of its legs off.  She managed to outright avoid another, but the third got into the back of her calf neatly, I could see small stains where her blood leaked from around its mouth.  She was shouting curses as she tried to fend for herself in the small area.  She managed to hit the button to lower the second door and raise mine but she wasn’t doing well.  I needed her to at least make it inside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She managed to dig her knife into the one attached to her leg, but earned another bite on her forearm for the trouble.  The one she’d only knocked to the side wasn’t back in the game yet or it likely would have gotten a strike of its own.  This was exactly why swarms of creatures were so effective...there were always more to threaten when one went down.  Any opening was huge.  I grit my teeth, annoyed at how bloody long these doors took to open.  She was taking care of the one on her arm when I managed to get inside, stepping on the final of the little beasts.  She definitely was not in a good place to avoid an infection with all the bite marks on her body.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Claire.” I said her name in hopes it would keep her focused, ripping off a pierce of shirt to wrap it around her arm.  She was losing blood quickly.  The needle-like teeth of the rats had made sure of that.  “Claire, stay awake.  You have to stay conscious.  What happened?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m awake, asshole.” She murmured, eyes opening in a half-hearted effort to glare, but she couldn’t focus like she should.  Her eyes were darker than usual and I could already see dark lines on her skin near the bites. “Those fucking things attacked me in the laundry room when I was working on getting a new load in.  I took out two before I realized there was a whole pack and ran.  Fuck...fuck...I’m gonna die here…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shhh...don’t get worked up.  You’ll increase the blood loss.” I was still working as fast as I could to tie off the wounds.  Her calm would also help slow the spread of the virus.  “We’ll need to get you medicine.  You’ll need something to fight infection and I should be able to work up the anti-virus from the chemicals on hand at this site.  Spencer would keep things like that on hand.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I wasn't convinced of that, but it sounded good enough.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, there’s fuck all chance of that.  There’s another whole group of them outside.” She shook her head.  “Of course, I’m gonna die in a cell with Albert Wesker, this is a shit way to go.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Stop that.  You aren’t going to die.” I stated, scowling at her.  I didn’t mind the hate, just the possible giving up.  If she gave up, I was trapped down here.  “Tell me the code.  I’ll take care of the infected out there and get you fixed.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah right.  I'm sure you’d kill the little pests, but then you’ll just take off.” She coughed as I picked her up to take her to my bed, setting her down and removing her boot so I could bind the leg as well.  At least the leather seemed to have stopped worse damage.  “You don’t get to leave.  I told you that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, you’ll die here?” I shook my head at her.  “We don’t have time for your worthless morality right now.  If they’re infected with my strain, there’s no knowing how quickly it’ll affect you.  I’d rather not have to put you down and live with the scent of dead Redfield for the rest of time.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She laughed bitterly.  “Worthless morality.  See, you wouldn’t come back in here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I will.” I reassured her, settling a needle against her arm to inject pain medication.  She’d left a small first aid kit here during one of her trips inside.  “I like it when you owe me your life, dear heart.  Think that’s pretty clear given I’m here.  You don’t want to die here, you said it yourself.  Give me the code and I’ll save you.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This fic is tough.  This will probably be the last chapter I post for this one this year.  It'll definitely move to a new phase with the new year given the way this ended.  I hope everyone has great holidays (whatever they celebrate (or don't) and remain safe.  I hope to see you in 2021 with more Wesker/Claire Whumping.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. History Repeating</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tables are turned as Wesker is the one nursing Claire back to health this time.  Not that her wounds are nearly as bad as his had been.  She's still well enough to snark right back at him.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b>Chapter Seven:</b> <b>  History Repeating</b></p>
<p>
  <em> “They say the next big thing is here, that the revolution’s near, but to me it seems quite clear; that’s it all just a little bit of history repeating.” </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b> <em>-History Repeating, Propellerheads</em> </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>Claire (Present Day (2009):</b>
</p>
<p>Waking from an uncomfortable spiral sensation had become all too common of an experience for me.  I even knew not to move very quickly, as I recognized the dull ache of wounds beneath the medical dizziness.  What this time?  My mind was still fuzzy, but I winced when I realized what I’d done...again.  Was I ever going to stop making deals with the devil?  Did I have a soul left to give at this point?  How could I have let him out just to save my own skin?  He could be anywhere by now...how was I even alive?  Had Chris and Leon found me?</p>
<p>“She-field.” </p>
<p>His voice was the last I’d expected.  He’d actually stayed here?  To help me?</p>
<p>“Can you open your eyes?”  He was back into analytical mode judging by the lack of mockery.</p>
<p>I did slowly, expecting to be anywhere but a bed.  I wasn’t inside of the cell where I’d lost consciousness, but from the layout of the walls and the furniture half covered in sheets I could tell we were still inside Spencer’s castle.  How was it I found myself waking to his care a second time like this?  Sure, the surroundings were far less...white, but it was close enough in spirit to be uncomfortable.  I was in a lot more pain this time than the last.  </p>
<p>At least he’d found himself some sunglasses, I preferred those to the amber cat eyes.  I expected he was watching me critically from behind them.  I felt more embarrassed this time...if he didn’t need to check my eyes I would have wanted to look at anything but him.  </p>
<p>“You don’t have lingering signs of a t-virus infection, that’s good.  I think I got you the anti-virus quickly enough.  It was close.  I have a limited amount of morphine here, so I can’t keep you under fully, like last time.” He explained, writing a note on a piece of paper, still the doctor he’d been back then, the time he saved me.  It was bizarre to think of him like this, half the time I forgot that he’d been a doctor and researcher longer than he’d been a double-agent or open psycho.  “You’ll need more time to overcome the Uroborus.”</p>
<p>I was shocked though...mostly that he’d remained here...he could have left me for dead after I’d given him the code.  He certainly wasn’t still in his cell...that flimsy agreement I’d made with him was downstairs where I doubt he’d been since he escaped.  That pointless piece of paper seemed all the stupider now.  The Uroborus?  </p>
<p>“The rats?  Did you get them?”  I asked nervously.  Leon was due back eventually with other supplies.  I’d called Chris too...not that he ever answered, but still...  </p>
<p>This with Wesker...now I was sort of at his mercy, that didn’t look good.  Not that I expected talk would be on the list of things for Leon or Chris if either showed up and saw Wesker up and out of his cell.  I groaned at the idea of still being here when they got back.  “How long have I been out?”</p>
<p>“The rats...none exited the facility as far as I could tell.  I hunted out whatever ones I could find after I got you stabilized.” He explained, taking my questions in order as he wrote his notes.  “You have been unconscious for four days.  I may have broken our agreement by exiting the cell, but I figured you wouldn’t protest.”</p>
<p>“Why?  Why stay and help me?  You could have left.” I was confused.</p>
<p>“Oh?  That little contract you jotted out on a piece of line paper wasn’t legally binding?” He asked, perking a brow to match with his sarcasm.  Then shrugging when I narrowed my eyes, not in the mood for his attitude.  “I told you I wouldn’t let you die, She-field.  Regardless of how you feel about me after Raccoon City, I’m generally a man of my word.” </p>
<p>“Bit paradoxical for a guy that tried to murder us all a few months ago, you are up to something.” I stated, it was a fact as far as I was concerned.  “You aren’t in your cell now.”</p>
<p>“A bit difficult given I needed to take care of you.” He pointed out reasonably.  “You’ve been through this before.  Hands up, pull against my arms as much as you can.”</p>
<p>He held his arms in the air, ignoring my dubious stare...just as he had back then.  He still had clinical patience; several seconds passed before I gave up first and reached for him.  I didn’t move myself from the effort of pulling against him, but he didn’t budge.  He smirked when I left my hands up for him to continue his tests; I had been here before after all.</p>
<p>“Good girl.” He remarked, pushing my arms a few directions.  He could move me with ease even when I tried to stay still.  It was frustrating how strong he’d become when he was a corpse not that long ago.  I wasn’t as anxious as I would have thought, unlike our last check-up I was more baffled than frightened.  He scared me, but he’d stayed to help me when he could have escaped.  I had every reason to be on guard, but if he’d planned to kill me he could have just left me for dead and taken off.</p>
<p>“You aren’t completely clear yet, but it’s weakened enough that you’ll be fine as long as I finish up your treatment.” He explained, writing notes on his clipboard.  I let my eyes close, tired despite days of rest; apparently fighting off a bio-weapon infection was exhausting.</p>
<p>“Thank you…” I murmured, hating having to say it.  Those were words this man should never really get...but he’d saved me, twice now.  I owed him that much, even if I needed my eyes shut to stomach showing him appreciation.  “I know you had to be tempted to just leave...thanks for staying...for helping me.”</p>
<p>“Did I miss a fever?” I felt a hand on my forehead.  It made me jump, the sudden cool contact of leather…I scowled at where he was nearby, smirking at his own joke.</p>
<p>“I could actually just want to offer thanks you know.  Didn’t you give me shit before when I failed to?” I shut my eyes again, refusing to demur at Albert Wesker.</p>
<p>“Nice to see a Redfield capable of learning, or etiquette.” He returned, his hands still on my forehead and then my cheeks as if continuing to check my temperature.  What could he even pick up through leather gloves?  “How’s your pain?”</p>
<p>“I can tell I was bitten to hell, my arm and leg hurts, but it’s dull.  Mostly I’m hungry.” I replied, preferring to speak to him without looking at him given the lack of distance.</p>
<p>“We’ll need to start small, but even feeling hungry is a good sign.” He commented, I heard him move to check other equipment he’d attached to me.  “I’ll fix you some soup and if you can keep that down you’ll graduate to more complex meals.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather get it myself.” I noted.</p>
<p>I started to push up, not wanting to sleep more, then shot him a glare when he pressed me back with a single hand.  Just a couple fingers paused my forward movement as he shook his head.  </p>
<p>“No, you just became aware of even really waking.  Too much stress or activity will undo the work I’ve done.  While I’m sure captivity will grow dull, I don’t want to play nursemaid longer than I must.” He said coldly, holding me until I stopped putting pressure against his hand and laid back.  “I don’t need to hear your protests, and if you wish to be overly stubborn I’ll just chain you to the bed.”</p>
<p>“Excuse me?” I scoffed at his comments, glad my voice didn’t break at the horrible image that came to mind with his threat.  “You don’t just leave patients to waste away in bed if they can move.  You should know that, <em> Doctor </em>Wesker.”</p>
<p>“Yes, and when you are ready to be on your feet I’ll be the first to encourage it.  Until then, stay put.” Wesker retorted, pausing to write some more things nearby.  I noticed him glance at me from the corner of the sunglasses though.  He was watching to see if I obeyed...jackass.</p>
<p>“So, what’s your plan then, keep me as a prisoner til Leon or Chris show up, barter your way somewhere better?” I asked.  I figured it had to be the best option with us having no vehicles to travel any reasonable distance here at the castle.  Even the old automobile in the garage here was unreliable.  “I appreciate your help, but it’s not a ‘get of jail free’ card.  We’ll find a way to toss you back in that cell.”</p>
<p>“Had I wanted to leave, I could have.” He repeated what I already knew.  “I could have left you for dead in that cell and waltzed out the front door.  As that wasn’t the case, I’d appreciate a touch less immediate pessimism.”</p>
<p>“Then why didn’t you leave?  What changed?  Don’t try to tell me you grew a conscience after all the seizing.” I snorted.  “I know better.”</p>
<p>“Nothing has changed, dear heart.” He set the papers on a desk nearby, turning back toward me instead of eyeing the chart.  “Consider this a calculated investment.”</p>
<p>“Gee, that makes me feel way better.” I deadpanned at his non-answer.</p>
<p>“Do rest, you’ll recover faster.” He returned with false politeness.  He was losing patience though, I could tell.  So he wasn’t trying to fake good behavior...what the hell was he up to?  Despite my annoyance at being told to shut up, I complied.  I was tired and arguing with Wesker was like slamming my head into a brick wall - pointless and painful.  I didn’t have a choice but to take him at his word that he wasn’t trying to escape.  He was right that he hadn’t yet...</p>
<p>
  <b>Wesker (Present Day (2009) Several hours later:</b>
</p>
<p>I rubbed the towel over my face after the refreshing cool of the water I’d splashed into it.  Doing my best to put the images of fiery agony out of my mind with the icy liquid to show my system that I wasn’t still burning alive.  It wasn’t the first time I’d woken to such imagery during my recovery, and frustratingly, I doubted it would be the last.  My body remembered the painful near death experience quite clearly...</p>
<p>I glanced at my own reflection in the clear polished silver of the shared bathroom between where I’d set up Claire and taken the matching room to rest as needed.  I wasn’t yet fully recovered.  My face was gaunter than it had been before the accident, my body hadn’t fully built back the muscles that had atrophied while I lay in the dirt near the volcano.  I had to sleep and eat both more than I would like.  Much more than I would have before the accident.  I flexed my left hand, trying not to think about how recently it regenerated…</p>
<p>I appreciated my improved ability to heal, but it came with the cost of needing more rest and food...</p>
<p>Uruborus had been a major factor in my survival, but I couldn’t know how stable it would remain.  It had also made me contagious...though I couldn’t tell just how those that caught the virus from me would react yet.  Part of why I’d stuck around to help with Claire, just what could I do to control this new factor since I was probably the only sample of Uruborus left.  Other than the vermin I’d shoved into cages, but they hadn’t shared my ability to regenerate from a partly crushed skull...</p>
<p>I’d removed the vermin from around the castle as best I could.  I doubted there were more of the creatures left, but I still had to be cautious.  I was at little risk, but the work I’d done on She-field wouldn’t get far if another showed up to chew on her.  I’d moved furniture in front of the door that normally would go into her bedroom and I’d shuttered the window.  If she was attacked while she was unconscious, she wouldn’t have a chance.  This made the only reasonable route to her without raising alarm through my room and the shared bathroom. </p>
<p>This was the second time I had gotten a virus out of her system, she really had to stop getting herself infected.  If forced to rely on those fools outside she’d definitely turn into a zombie.  Or whatever else Uroborus may have evolved her into were I not around.  I was the only person that could help her given the antibodies in my blood seemed to be what had kept control of her own possible mutation.</p>
<p>This wasn’t so bad though, it gave me a gauge of what to expect if others were exposed to my virus now that I’d mutated with Uruborus.  I had been largely unable to pass on my illness before the incident in Africa.  Now though, the rats had definitely mutated, but what they’d passed to Claire in their bites had been weaker so I expected without direct contact with my DNA the Uruborus would get continually weaker through generations of exposure.  I had to contain that.  While this had been an incidental trove of information, others would pay good money for what I knew...they would also be very keen to lock me away and keep me like I’d once kept Lisa Trevor.  </p>
<p>Not a fond thought, I was definitely better off here for now.</p>
<p>It wasn’t so bad.  </p>
<p>Despite my comments to her, I wasn’t in a hurry to release her from care given I wanted to know more about not just how my own infection spreads, but how those that recover from it manage as well.  Helping her was a requirement of my new mutation.  She was right that I hadn’t miraculously developed any sort of moral compass, not one she’d abide by at any rate.  I had other reasons of my own for aiding her, but she need not be privy to them.  However, I could let others interpret my behavior as selfless, including her, particularly if it made my life easier.</p>
<p>This was a patience game.  My previous attempts to take the world by force had been foiled, and I needed time to plan again and learn what my new abilities were.  I was immortal compared to them...and surviving a swim through magma gives even a god a new perspective on patience...</p>
<p>If they planned to hold me here in secret, then they wouldn’t tell people.  They would leave me in this place expecting me to never escape, but my identity would be safe.  Eventually I’d get out, but in the meanwhile I wasn’t in the cage downstairs and this wasn’t the worst safehouse I’d ever used.  I'd possibly be able to rebuild an even better version of Uroborus this time.  I’d gotten too excited last time, I’d thought myself measured, but I’d rushed to take on the world.  I could afford time.  If I wouldn’t die, I could wait much longer than I had before this.  I was better than any of them at the long game.</p>
<p>I glanced toward her door, I’d heard the girl take in a hissed breath unlike the steady ones until now.  Looking inside, her face was contorted with discomfort, her hand scratching at the part of her opposite arm that had been bitten.  Seems I wasn’t the only one suffering nightmares tonight.  I walked over to look at the vitals, they were still stable, so it was just in her head and not any real threat from the viruses in her blood.  </p>
<p>She’d knocked hair into her face with her slight writhing, so I reached out to push it and raised a brow when she slapped my hand away in her twisting.  I let her, better than her harming herself...but she was working herself up too much.  Her heart rate was climbing fast...whatever it was she was not waking from it herself either.  We lacked much in the line of narcotics and I didn’t have many supplies on hand to synthesize any myself.  Nor would I have time for it.  I didn’t like waking those mid-REM, but it was better than her episode harming more than her psyche.  I reached out to shake her…</p>
<p>“Stop!  Stop it!” She cried out, and would have backed right off the other side of the bed if I hadn’t grabbed her, holding her as she thrashed and screamed so she wouldn’t hurt herself.  I wasn’t worried about me, but she didn’t even notice right away she wasn’t still stuck in her dream.</p>
<p>“It was a nightmare.” I pointed out, which made her go rigid in my arms.   “You were having a rather believable one from the looks of it, so I intervened before you could…”</p>
<p>My words drifted when she threw herself against my chest and hugged me…</p>
<p>“...hurt yourself…”</p>
<p>She froze again a moment later and pulled back less aggressively, so I held her at arms length to make sure she wasn’t going to launch herself off the bed.  Whatever she’d been seeing must have been bad for her to seek my comfort, even if only accidentally or momentarily.  </p>
<p>
  <b> <em>Claire - Mostly present  - </em> </b>
</p>
<p>It was always the same...it started with the itching.  Something sinister crawling beneath my skin, the horrible illnesses seeking a way to bubble up and out of me.  To force me to do horrible things...to seek other life, to spread, to slaughter, to subjugate.  I could only watch, as though forced to view the scenes of my monstrous side through a tank of water.  Where I couldn’t escape, couldn’t scream, as my body destroyed everyone I cared about.  I was about to bite into Chris when the tank broke, and I cried out for the creature, for this shadowy alter ego, to stop.  Then others...other zombies, other hands were grabbing at me…</p>
<p>I was between worlds when the cold voice made me realize it was another nightmare. </p>
<p>“It was a nightmare.” Wesker had woken me just before the worst part, at least I hadn’t had to see Chris bitten this time...by me.  I shuttered and hugged him before I realized what I was doing.  It was the only thing I could do, before my tired and terrified brain caught up to the gesture and I tore myself away.  </p>
<p>“Yeah...I...uh.  I’m fine now.” I managed, though even I could tell I was lying.  My voice shook too much to be the truth.  “Sorry…”</p>
<p>“Pull yourself together, She-field.” Wesker returned, his voice a touch lighter than normal.  He let go of me, and I realized he’d kept me from falling off the bed in my thrashing.  “You want something to drink?  I have some water in my room.”</p>
<p>“Uh...please.” I nodded slowly.  I was a tad embarrassed now that the images were receding and I was left with the calm dark of the room where my recovery was taking place.  The moonlight from the window probably would have made it spookier if I didn’t know the worst of the monsters that could be here was the one nursing me to health.  I accepted a small bottle of water he handed me with a tiny nod of thanks, taking a sip.  </p>
<p>He watched me take a drink, down his sunglasses I noticed.  So even when he had them he didn’t sleep in them.  I guess some part of me had thought he would have them on even when he slept.  Like maybe he would fold his arms over his chest too, like a creepy leather vampire.  Not that my misconceptions about him being a blood-sucker had been all that accurate so far…</p>
<p>“Come on.” He announced as I realized I’d been staring for a while.  I blinked at the comment curiously.  Stammering stupidly a moment when he pulled the blankets off of me.  “Let’s go.  You wanted that walk, and I can’t expect going immediately back to sleep would be of use to you.  Get dressed.  We’ll take a short reprieve to the courtyard.”</p>
<p>“Uh...okay…” I wasn’t super keen on going out in the middle of the night, but the moon was nearly full and the weather hadn’t turned too cold yet.  I got up to get dressed as he left the room to probably do the same.  I was a bit sore from having been in bed a while, but I moved easier than I thought I would.  I could breath easier than I recalled from when I was somewhat between wakefulness and sleep.  I hated to admit that this was the second time Wesker had saved my life.  </p>
<p>I hated it...what he might ask of me for it later…<em> what I might feel obligated to give </em>...I was still suffering from the first time.</p>
<p>I was just wondering if I shouldn’t take my shoes back off and go to sleep when the bathroom door opened again, no knock.  Rude.  I frowned at him, but he just gestured for me to follow him.  I perked a brow, but went through the shared bathroom after him.  I wasn’t all that excited to see he’d blocked my door from the front, but at the same time after getting bit to hell by the rats I wasn’t ready to complain, either.  I followed him through the halls, noting just how quiet he was despite his size.  It was eerily silent here, somehow more so at this hour…</p>
<p>“Did I wake you?” I asked, more from a desire to break up the stillness than concern.</p>
<p>“No, I was up and I heard you moving.” He replied, leading the way as if he were perfectly familiar with this place.  The dark didn’t seem to bother him, but I had to stay close or I’d lose track of him.</p>
<p>“Well, I guess that’s good.” I commented, it resolved me needing to apologize.  Though it also was going to leave an awkward silence if I didn’t speak up again.  “You seem to know your way around.”</p>
<p>“I’ve been here before.” He returned, leading me down a stairwell and toward a door.  “I memorized the layout some time ago.  You should have become familiar in the time you had.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well...I figured I would have more time to explore.  Before I was attacked by demon rats, I had a really demanding inmate to look after.” I retorted, frowning at him as we went out the door.  It was hard to see this late, but the moonlight helped.  There was a large central garden though it was mostly overgrown now there were several walkable paths.  I had to admit it was sort of pretty, the sort of picturesque view you’d expect to find in photos online of old castles in europe.  I took a deep breath, appreciating the fresh air after the stuffiness of being indoors for so long.  He didn’t speak again, and I had to wonder just what he was up to with all this…</p>
<p>“I thought you didn’t want me up and walking yet.” I pointed out, not wanting time to dwell on my repetitive dreams.</p>
<p>“Yes, well.  Better than you harming yourself falling out of bed.” He replied.  “Besides, it seemed reasonable you would improve from a walk and fresh air.  It always helped Victoria.”</p>
<p>“Victoria?” I canted my head at him.  “Ex-girlfriend?”</p>
<p>“My sister’s dog, from years ago.” He retorted, smirking at the frown that came to my face.  </p>
<p>“You really are a prick.” I muttered, annoyed that he’d decided to take me on a walk outside...like I was gonna make a mess if he kept me cooped up indoors or something.  He didn’t argue, though I was sure he could hear me.  He probably had super zombie hearing.</p>
<p>I walked farther into the courtyard, looking over a large fountain of an angel.  Knowing who made the mansion it probably opened into some secret area full of more horrific research projects.  It was pretty though, the surface of these places always seemed harmless enough at first.  The inside was less beautiful, blackened leaves and stagnant water...it was thin enough not to let off a stench, but it was clear this fountain wouldn’t work again without a lot of cleaning and effort.  I sighed at the image and turned back to the ivy along the wall, it was just a weed too really...but it was nicer to look at.  It was so much that I was curious if it was here on purpose.  Perhaps hiding something.  I could see Spencer doing that after the other places I’d been related to Umbrella.</p>
<p>I started to reach up toward it, curious , then jumped when Wesker grabbed my wrist.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?”  I wouldn’t have been able to wrench away if he hadn’t allowed it but that didn’t stop me from being annoyed.  I glared at him.  “Don’t touch me!”</p>
<p>“Didn’t Redfield teach you anything?” Wesker asked, his eyes brightening red a split-second the moment he referenced my brother.  “I thought you were taught how to camp and survive.  Look at the plant again.”</p>
<p>I scowled at him a long moment, but glanced back at the wall when he gestured to it.  The ivy was growing up most of the length of the building, and then I noted the patches of three leaves.  This wasn’t for looks...this was poison ivy.  I frowned and he picked up the recognition.</p>
<p>“You are welcome, She-field.  Best not to treat anything here as trustworthy.” He commented.</p>
<p>
  <em> Least of all, you. </em>
</p>
<p>“Who just lets large swatches of this grow on their own home?” My face was scrunched up in distaste, it was over most of one one of the walls that went up several stories.  I guess it wouldn’t matter to the founder of Umbrella that it was dangerous…</p>
<p>“I expect it didn’t start this large.  He probably kept it for samples originally.” Wesker replied.  “I expect for some various research or other before being forgotten for more promising projects.  Then it was left to its own devices.  There used to be other dangerous plants out here, but the BSAA managed to clear out most of them.  You managed to stumble right into one of the worst things left.  Why would you go touching random plants?”</p>
<p>“I have a bad habit of finding trouble.” I shrugged lightly, annoyed at him again.  I definitely wasn’t going to be honest that I’d thought maybe there was a secret somewhere; that would just land me more mockery.  “Why are you helping me again?”</p>
<p>“If you end up with a horrible rash it could be a shock to your system, and I’ll be stuck in this little nursemaid roll longer than I’d like.” He shrugged, I wasn’t buying it.  “If keeping you virus-free wasn’t my goal, I’d be happy to let you roll in it.”</p>
<p>“No, I mean...all around.  You said this was an investment...but for what?” I wanted to sound more aggressive than I did, but I was getting tired again after our walk out here.  It was pretty far for someone that had just spent four days in bed.  I didn’t like this not knowing what Wesker was up to...particularly since he had escaped the cell and seemed to have his strength back.</p>
<p>“I appreciate your new interest in me, dear heart.” He commented, smirking at my question.  “I’m flattered, but I don’t think we’ve gotten close enough to share our goals and dreams.”</p>
<p>“You’re hilarious.” I deadpanned, setting hands on my hips.  “I’m serious.  It’s not exactly easy to actually rest and relax when I’m afraid of what you’re up to.”</p>
<p>“You’ll adjust to the unknown.” He shrugged at me.  “I am not going to tell you more than I have.  For the moment, I plan to finish cleansing your system of the virus, you should be content with that.”</p>
<p>I didn’t like it...but I wasn’t sure I had much choice.  I didn’t really have any way to force him to tell me anything.  I couldn’t really ask anything I hadn’t already, and he would probably avoid any real answers.  I swayed slightly on my feet, going stiff when he settled a hand on my shoulder.  It was another awkward pause before he spoke again.</p>
<p>“We should get back inside, you still need rest.” Wesker’s voice was tireder than a moment ago.  I only nodded, knowing it wouldn’t do me much good to argue, I was still sick and I did need to recuperate.  The movement and fresh air had helped, but this was a lot of work for someone still recovering.  I glanced toward the door back inside, it seemed a bit farther than it should...then let out a small yelp when I was pulled off my feet.</p>
<p>“What are you doing?” I gripped at his arm more out of a desire not to get thrown than to steady myself.</p>
<p>“You’re dizzy.” He pointed out, not looking at me as he started to carry me back toward the door.  “While I’m certain you wouldn’t hurt anything of import, I’d rather you not fall and hit your head on the stone.”</p>
<p>“...” I nodded despite the several insults that came to mind.  He wasn’t wrong, I was dizzy...though I hadn’t expected him to lift me up like that.  “You should at least warn someone.”</p>
<p>“Oh?  Not a girl that likes to be swept off her feet?” He was teasing me on purpose.</p>
<p>“Not by you, anyway.” I retorted as coldly as I could manage.  Altering the subject again.  “How are you so quiet anyway?  You barely make footsteps.  It’s creepy.”</p>
<p>He glanced down at me, and I knew he could feel me shudder slightly at the flicker of gold in his eyes.  Of course, being a shady fuck <em> would </em>amuse him.  I changed the subject again, not wanting to think about being carried by him.  “You didn’t get all the rats, that’s why there is furniture outside my door.”</p>
<p>“I’d rather be safe in case the infection spread farther than we first thought.” He replied, opening his door with a strange ease for a guy carrying another person.  “Come, get back to bed.”</p>
<p>I couldn’t argue, given he was moving to set me down on the bed.  He didn’t just drop me, though I half expected him to.  He checked the numbers shortly and then left into the shared bathroom.  I crawled under the covers, deceptively exhausted now that I was back to bed and not in that embarrassing scenario.  Talk about mixed messages.  What was I really, to him?   What was he up to?</p>
<p>The lack of warmth was notable after being carried for a while...I didn’t like the cold.  I shoved my face into my pillow and curled my blankets closer...knowing I’d probably never hear the end of him carrying me around like that...</p>
<p>
  <em> Ugh. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em> Albert Wesker sucks.  Why couldn’t he have just died in the volcano? Volcanos suck...bio-weapons suck, this all just sucks… </em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Poor Claire, she's so irritated XD.  Thank you readers for support on this fic.  I am glad people seem to like it so much.  I hope I can continue to deliver something you enjoy.  Happy New Year!  Let's all hope 2021 is better than it's predecessor.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. And Who Would Have Thought, It Figures</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire continues to recover, and comes to the (at least regrettable for her) plan that she can't just keep Wesker here by herself and will need help taking care of him.  Wesker is perfectly fine with the plan to relocate, perhaps too much so...</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em> He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye.  He waited his whole damn life to take that flight.  And as the plane crashed down, he thought: "Well, isn't this nice" </em>
</p><p><b>-Alanis Morissette, </b> <b> <em>And Who Would Have Thought, It Figures</em> </b></p><p>
  <b> <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - A couple days later:</em> </b>
</p><p>However bad something seems, it can always always, <em> always, </em> get worse.  </p><p>I should have learned that from a pretty young age, what with all I’ve been through.  And yet...here I was, digging through dusty boxes in a closet while wincing at the loud echoing gunfire in the halls outside.  Had Chris returned?  Leon?  Probably not, there weren’t just a couple of guns going off...the cacophony had woken me up and I’d half fallen out of bed and crawled into the walk-in closet connected to the bedroom.  Wesker had left me clothes, but no weapon…</p><p>
  <em> Shit..shit...shit… </em>
</p><p>“Calm down...think.” I muttered to myself, giving up on the boxes of packed linens and other clothes from whoever else had stayed here.  I wasn’t going to miraculously find a gun or ammunition.  I had my combat knife...but that didn’t do me much good when whoever was here definitely had brought firearms.  If it wasn’t the BSAA, then who was here?  Did information about Wesker leak somehow?  From where?  The camp in Africa maybe?  </p><p>That was all I could think of.  </p><p>I grit my teeth, walking toward the bathroom.  My own door would still be covered up from the outside.  I hesitated when I reached the door into the larger castle.  Even if I went out there...what could I do?  I expected Wesker had to be involved or there wouldn’t be so many shots going on...but did I wait for the dust to settle?  That could be dangerous too if it wasn’t the BSAA and it was someone looking to use him.  I didn’t want to get hurt for Albert Wesker, but the idea of someone taking him to test on was worse.  I didn’t want to know what they’d make from him if just a little blood had so quickly changed the rats that bit into me.  I also sort of needed him alive if he was going to get this infection fully out of my system.  I reached down and headed out into the dark deafening corridor…</p><p>They weren’t even on the upper floors...which didn’t bode well.  I followed the din toward one of the lower floor labs.  This was bound to be bad.  The shots hadn’t really stopped since they’d started, but I felt like there were fewer.  That was a good sign for Wesker...and bad for whoever else was here.  I padded down the circular steps two at a time, then blinked in surprise when I came face to face with someone in military tactical gear, pushing their rifle to the side when they pulled it up to aim at me.  I ignored the likely burn I’d earned for touching a barrel that had just been firing.  I was lucky I was close enough given they pulled the trigger next to my face.  I was gonna be deaf in that ear for a while...I held onto the weapon, not wanting it pointed at me and moved closer to them quickly, slamming my foot on theirs before we both lost our balance and went tumbling down the steps.</p><p>The guy had lost his weapon somewhere in the fall, which was the only good news I had.  He’d otherwise gotten his arms around me, and slammed me into the ground after our tumble to the next floor down.  He was much bigger than me, and I was tough, but I couldn’t get any leverage against him as he reached to tie my hands.  Well, definitely wasn’t Chris or Leon in danger at least.  </p><p>“Bitch.” He hissed at me as I felt the cuffs go tighter than they needed to.  Scowling at him as he spun me around. “Come on, I have a use for you.”</p><p>I spit in his face.  Which probably wasn’t the best plan given he slammed me in the skull with the butt of his gun for the insult.  Whatever possibly witty reply he might have had lost on me as I spiraled into unconsciousness.</p><p>
  <b> <em>Wesker - (A touch earlier than Present) - </em> </b>
</p><p>Tiny snake-like parasitic cells of Uruborus were being steadily attacked and either destroyed by my impromptu anti-virus in Claire’s blood.  Or, mutated in such a way as to where they weren’t actively attacking her system without actually dissipating.  It was interesting, as if the virus was going into a hibernation itself since there was no method for it to currently otherwise survive.  Once the virus’ cells stopped moving as much, they put off some sort of outer film and then just sat.  After that, other cells ceased to attack them…</p><p>I leaned back to rub my face, writing some more notes on the latest sample.  This was an intriguing change compared to previous days when Claire had simply been improving.  Was this how my body had treated Uroborus as well?  Was it still dormant in my own cells?  That would be the next vein of research to pursue.  I needed to take a break though...I’d been in the labs for a while and Claire would be waking before much longer.  I slid my sunglasses back on and headed out.  She was probably getting tired of soup, but it was on the menu again...she whined about it less than the MREs.  </p><p>I’d just opened the door when I had to duck to the side of the frame.  I sensed the bullet just before the thundering echo of it being released from it’s chamber.  I felt the slight burn along my side where it didn’t quite graze, but came close enough for me to notice.  A second shot followed the first, then several more...but I was already behind the wall by then, and Spencer had never built his facilities cheaply.  I risked a glance outside, but had to duck immediately back to avoid another shot.  Not BSAA by the lack of uniforms…</p><p>It seemed this place wasn’t as safe as I’d been hoping it would remain.  </p><p>Someone must have heard about my revival somewhere...and I had no shortage of both allies and enemies that would like to see me in their own custody.  Problematic that they hadn’t even announced themselves, was the plan to kill me or take me by force?  Either was a possibility, and the only diplomacy I was getting from this crew was at the end of a barrel.  I grimaced when I realized the hail of gunfire had torn apart the microscope I’d been using and my notes on the topic.  How had they gotten to this level anyway?  I scowled at the narrowing possibilities of just who could have hired someone to come after me.  Then I dashed out the door toward them.</p><p>I took two shots for my gambit rush at the unexpected enemy.  One hit me in my left side which ricocheted painfully off my rib and sat inside the flesh.  The second dug into my right shoulder and continued on through.  They were using some sort of special rounds, probably armor piercing, this was more damage than I should be taking from any normal bullets.  </p><p>I didn’t take time to decipher if I knew the first gunman, I knew I wouldn’t have time.  My fist met with his face over the top of his gun and his skull crushed inward like a rotten cantaloupe.  I held him up as best I could from inside his skull as I grabbed the barrel of the second man’s rifle and bent it backwards so the man couldn’t use it against me.  Leaving him largely ineffective was good, but if he had another weapon he’d still be minor threat.  His partner took about four shots I didn’t...but one went clean through and still slammed my chest.  </p><p>Letting out a grunt of displeasure, I snatched up the moron still gaping at his bent weapon.  After snapping his neck I threw him at the second group still firing at me.  I definitely wasn’t moving as quickly as I should, but my wounds were starting to close - one regrettably over the bullet I’d have to dig out later. I reached the second group before the body did, but that distraction was the plan.  They were busy watching their comrades corpse flail toward them and didn’t think I’d outpace the body.  </p><p>I paused my momentum by gently placing my foot on the chest of one, who went flying backward; likely dead outright.  The second I palmed in the nose hard enough that I pushed through his face a lot like the first man I’d crushed earlier.  Two more bullets dug into my back before I was able to spin around using the former attacker as a meatshield.  There was another group of two left...and one of them had just thrown a grenade.</p><p>Had they not seen me until now?</p><p>I wasn’t there when the grenade went off, I’d rushed up to the group...only to find it was a wiser gambit for them than I’d realized.  They’d expected me to take it as a chance to rush in and there was a second grenade at their previous location.  I grit my teeth as the shrapnel bit into my chest and face and then chased after them.  Did they think that would be enough?  One was fast enough that I didn’t see them, they must have run a lot farther off than the last one.  I smirked at the fearful expression in his eyes when I pulled his gun away.  If I had the time, I would have savored that terror...would have let him understand just how bad his mistake was.  All I had to spare him at the moment though was the mercy of a swiftly broken neck so I could be after the last one…</p><p>What I didn’t expect was to find the attacker standing over Claire, wiping his face off and glaring at her.  She had her hands cuffed behind her, and her eyes were half closed.  This would probably slow her progress and set back my research...I was about to dash forward and murder the idiot but a shot finished him off before I could move.  The rookie boy scout from the RPD came rushing down the stairs and frowned at me, but I wavered and took a knee now that the true need to be on my feet had passed.  I had several wounds that were screaming at me with pain, including two where the bullets were still beneath the skin...the Dicaprio wannabe was the least of my concerns.   </p><p>I ignored him to start digging out the offending metal projectiles before the flesh closed completely....</p><p>
  <b> <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - a few hours later:</em> </b>
</p><p>Awkward.</p><p>I accepted a cup of soup from one of the world’s most wanted men as Leon glared in distaste.  I knew he wanted to pull his gun and pop Wesker in the head.  If he thought it would work, I expected he would have already.  I was only vaguely aware of having been brought back up to my ‘room’ and the way it looked oh so damning for me.  I was trying not to think about all the dead men in the basement, vaguely relieved I’d missed most of the battle.</p><p>“Is this why you called for Chris?” Leon asked, his eyes still on Wesker distrustfully.  “He was worried.  He was at a job, but he called me and I said I’d check on you.”</p><p>I put the bowl on the table, food wasn’t gonna happen right now.  God, this would have been way worse if it would have been Chris that showed up.  As it was Wesker had noted that I’d called for my brother, and he didn’t say anything, but I could feel the displeasure as he walked around to the equipment he’d set me back up with to double check my numbers.  </p><p>“There was a problem…” I said a bit meekly.  I would have loved years ago if Leon had rushed in to my rescue...now though that wasn’t the case.  Hell, I hadn’t even been awake when he arrived.  I didn’t know where to start.  The tension in the room wasn’t helping.  Wesker hadn’t gotten involved, he didn’t seem concerned Leon was here.  That didn’t bode well; either he was overconfident or healed enough even after taking hits in that fight that we couldn’t reasonably put him back in his cell.</p><p>“Small issue?” Leon echoed, glancing back to me before his eyes returned to Wesker.  He wasn’t attacking, but there was no love lost there.  “What happened?”</p><p>“Miss Redfield ended up infected after failing to properly dispose of some of my bio-material.” Wesker finally spoke, I saw Leon visibly tense and his fingers twitch at the sound of Wesker’s voice.  “A pack of rats ended up infected, they then passed it to her.  I’m still getting the virus out of her system.  As to those men, we haven’t had a chance to investigate but I doubt they’ll be wearing anything easily identifiable.  I don’t know who they are.”</p><p>“Uh huh…” Leon sounded unconvinced, probably about anything Wesker had to say in general.  “Claire, are you still you in there?”</p><p>“He’s not mind controlling me.  Ew.” I stated, frowning at the concept.  “He’s telling the truth...I got attacked by rats...though he said he incinerated them to better stop any further spread of the virus.  I shouldn’t have let him out though…I’m sorry.”</p><p>I should have just been brave and picked death...</p><p>Leon was quiet.  He had every right to hate me for this.  I had dumped a mess in his lap...in all of our collective laps.  I didn’t want to picture how royally I was going to be chewed out by Chris for this...or the look of betrayal in Jill’s eyes when she heard...</p><p>“Had she done anything differently, she would have died and this would be a much less pleasant conversation we’d be having now.” Wesker pointed out, setting down his makeshift chart.  “Claire wouldn’t be participating, she made the only logical choice she could.”</p><p>“How much longer till she’s clean?” Leon asked, having paused to eye over some of the meds that were near my table.  He was gauging the truth of our tale.  He’d dealt with these things as long as I had.  He knew what was generally needed to help cure infections successfully.  I still couldn’t blame him for being cold.  I’d agreed to keep this from happening and now it was my fault.  </p><p>“A week or so, give or take a couple days if she continues to trend as she’s been.” Wesker answered clinically.  “She needs to rest and not stress her system.  I don’t believe her little stint out of the room today set her back, but only time will tell.  Either way, we can’t remain here.  Whoever sent that team will be figuring out they failed and be prepping some other ambush.”</p><p>“MmmHmm.” Leon shook his head.  “You want me to just take you somewhere else?  You shouldn’t even be out of the cell downstairs.”</p><p>“You’re welcome to try to put me back, but I’d hate to make a mess of you and leave the girl sobbing.  That would definitely set her back.” Wesker definitely wasn’t playing nice with Leon.  “This isn’t like the usual t-virus, your doctors wouldn’t have a shot of helping her.  I might not even be able to stop it, but I’m certainly the only one capable of the possibility.”</p><p>“Why are you?” Leon challenged.  It was the question of the hour.  I had been hoping to figure that out myself.  “You could have left her here and run off.”</p><p>“I agreed to help Shefield recover.” Wesker stated plainly.  “I will continue to do that until she is back in fighting shape.”</p><p>“And when she’s well?” Leon retorted.  “You’ll escape and we’ll hunt you down.”</p><p>“I haven’t decided yet.” Wesker answered.  That was a lie, I was sure.  Wesker didn’t do anything without several back up plans...it was one of the few things everyone understood about him that knew him.  </p><p>Leon didn’t buy the answer either, but he didn’t respond right away.  He was clearly adding things up in his head...probably trying to come up with a plan that didn’t involve taking Wesker somewhere else or just leaving with me.  There wasn’t a good one...I didn’t trust the other doctors to actually cure me.  Wesker had no good reason to lie about this strain being different, if it came from him it probably was.  While I wouldn’t mind running screaming away from Wesker...I didn’t want to die either.  For all his faults, I was sure there were dozens I wasn’t even aware of...he’d kept me alive.  He was also my problem...I’d basically brought him back into the world...</p><p>“I hate to say it, but he’s right.  We can’t keep him here if people already know about him.” I was scowling as I admitted it.  “I’m not sure where we can take him though.”</p><p>“He’s a madman that’s betrayed us all before without a second thought.” Leon bit out.  “I know you wanna think the best, probably since you saved him...but Claire, this is not a good idea.”</p><p>“Do we have much choice?” I returned.  Hoping Leon would help.  “I get I fucked up...and that I could have made a few different choices, but this is where we are now.  Besides, if someone else found him then this would be worse and you know it.”</p><p>“Fine…” Leon hissed the word out as if it were painful.  “We don’t know if they’re watching the place.  They might see you fly off with me.  The only real place I can take you where the other groups won’t be able to freely attack is BSAA headquarters.  Where...you better behave yourself, Monster.”</p><p>“Mmm.” Wesker was noncommittal, though he didn’t seem bothered by Leon’s threatening tone of voice.  “I think that will be problematic, as I doubt they’ll want me treating her for this illness.  You don’t even have real pull at the organization, you still are the president’s little pup aren’t you?”</p><p>“It’s fine.” I interrupted right away.  “We don’t have other options.  We aren’t gonna just go stay somewhere else for you to help me.  You need to go somewhere we can keep an eye on you and have a chance of containment.”</p><p>“Hmm…” He looked amused at that observation.  “If that’s what you’d prefer to try, I won’t stop you.  When are we leaving?”</p><p>“Let me make a few calls and we should try to be out of here in the next hour or two.” Leon stated, his face softening slightly when he looked at me instead of Wesker.  “If you need me, call out.”</p><p>I only nodded.</p><p>“Yes, do run along so I can get final numbers before we go.” Wesker remarked, he clearly had no fondness for Leon.  Though Leon hadn’t been working at the department long before the city fell apart.  I’d presumed the pair of them had either never met or only done so in passing before the outbreak.  I was glad for just a bit less tension when Leon walked out though.</p><p>“You could be a touch nicer.  He is helping you.” I pointed out, wondering if dealing with Wesker was going to leave me some perpetual frown lines.  “He probably still thinks you pumped me full of that same mind control drug you used on Jill.”</p><p>“Not how it functions.” Wesker answered.  “You wouldn’t be able to speak to him so freely had you been under the influence of the same medication.”</p><p>“Yeah, that makes me feel way better.” I deadpanned, his small smirk at the remark was irritating  “You know, you could just tell us your plan.  You used to just advertise everything.”</p><p>“It’s been a lifetime since Rockfort.” He answered, walking closer to pick up the bowl I’d set aside earlier and press it into my hands.  “Eat.”</p><p>I took it.  Mostly because I wasn’t sure if he wouldn’t force feed me if I refused.  He hadn’t threatened to do such a thing, but I wouldn’t put it past him.  The food was a little cold, but not inedible.  He continued to look over numbers and walk between the machines he had me hooked up to.  There was no way I was in critical enough condition to warrant all the note taking.</p><p>“What are you writing?” I asked, a bit nervous he was only sticking around because I was some science project.</p><p>“I’m tracking your body's reactions to the serum both immediately and over time...the more I understand the minute details the easier it becomes the next time you stumble into an infection and I have to fix you again.” He observed, chuckling when I huffed at the comment.  I never wanted to end up infected…</p><p>“You are up to something.” I remarked, not letting his jibe distract me.  “No one needs to take this much time to write up a chart.  You can set the machines to track just numbers.”</p><p>“Ignorance is bliss, dear heart.” He pointed out.  He didn’t stop me though when I reached up for the chart, letting me take it out of his hands.  I scowled when I looked at it...of course the fucker would write it in Russian…I couldn’t read it, so I handed it back.  Whatever ominous shit he was doing would remain his secret.</p><p>“I rarely keep personal notes in English these days.” He explained.  “You are recovering faster this time than you did last time.  I’m tracking the differences as best I can recall without my notes from then.  It seems your body has some anti-bodies so you need less of the treatment than you did.  You have woken faster, and have recovered more quickly.  I am hypothesizing that your body would continue to recover quicker from future infections, or simply become immune to full infection as others with repeat exposure have managed to do.”</p><p>“...so, I’m becoming inoculated to the t-virus?” I furrowed my brow at him.  </p><p>“Not just it...other viruses have mixed into your system as well.” He answered, which definitely didn’t make me feel better.  I was about to ask him what, but he continued without me needing to.  “There is a small touch of Uruborus, but not enough to trigger any sort of mutation.  More interestingly, are the other viruses in my own system that you seem to now share.  It’s clear now the rats had become infected by my DNA and passed it on.”</p><p>“What are ‘the others”?” I asked hesitantly, perhaps he was right that it was a bit more terrifying to know.  I had that horrible worm creature in my system?</p><p>“Unimportant, it’s actually fortunate you were previously infected by T...or Uruborus wouldn’t have been controllable even in the small dose.  You saw what it did to the rats.” He explained.  “I expect that from here on in, you’ll be a lot more resistant to both strains of the viruses.  It’s rather fascinating.”</p><p>“Gee, glad I’m such a great science project.” I deadpanned.</p><p>I had mixed feelings about what I was hearing.  Sure, it was probably good given my line of work that I was somewhat resistant to these illnesses...but at the same time I’d paid more than it was worth.  I didn’t like this at all...being a little pet project of his to research on.  Sure, he was keeping me alive...but was it just to see what his own blood infection would do?  That would make the most sense...he probably wanted to see what havoc it caused now that he had Uruborus...he probably wanted to also confirm his body had mastered the more dangerous virus as well.  </p><p>
  <em> Shit...none of this was good… </em>
</p><p>“You’ll survive.” He spoke again, taking my soup cup even though it was only half-empty.  I’d definitely lost my appetite with the new information.  “Once I have enough medicine the rest of your course should be easy.  You should develop enough antibodies to make future infections less likely and more easily overcome should they occur.  I’m keeping as much track of this process as possible because it’s wise to have such reference material.”</p><p>“Uh huh…” I was skeptical of that.  <em> “The better to infect you with, my pretty.” </em></p><p>I kept my makeshift Wizard of Oz quote to myself.  </p><p>“Think what you like of me, Shefield.  Whatever the tally between us, I won’t forget that you pulled me out of that hellfire.” He said seriously enough that I wanted to believe him...that I almost did.  I only shook my head lightly.  I wasn’t that much of a fool.  Then, I did let myself get back to sleep as he worked, I apparently trusted him enough to stay near him...perhaps I was still just a young idiot.</p><p>
  <b> <em>A few days after prom... (1996) - Claire - </em> </b>
</p><p>“You aren’t in trouble, we just wanted to ask you a few questions.”</p><p>Well, that was always the last thing you wanted to hear whenever you got called to the office in high school.  The year was almost over, so what now?  I frowned at the principle, my skepticism for his comment clear.  It didn’t help that there was some other dude I didn’t know inside that gave me bad vibes.  Some old guy with graying hair, a growing waistline, and bad moustache.</p><p>“Miss Redfield.” The man I didn’t know started, the voice sounded familiar...now that I thought about it...maybe he was a little familiar.  Had I seen him before?  If so, not often cause I didn’t remember meeting him personally.  “I heard you had a small incident this past weekend.”</p><p>
  <em> “Fuck you, Nathan…” </em>
</p><p>“Yeah, a kid tried to rape me next to my locker.” I retorted coldly, immediately distrustful.  “You know him, Nathan from the football team.  Real fucking loser.”</p><p>“Language.” The principle hissed, scowling at me.  “I understand you had a trying time, but you need to keep in mind you’re talking to the police chief Irons.”</p><p>“Hey, now...no no.  It’s not your fault Miss Redfield.  We aren’t here to blame you.” Irons spoke up, glaring at the principle and then offering me a clearly fake smile.  Nope, didn’t like either of them.  Bad vibes.</p><p>“Okay...so, why am I here then?” I asked.  I wanted to get out as soon as I could.</p><p>“Nathan was in pretty bad shape.” Irons started and I interrupted.</p><p>“Yeah, he’s lucky he wasn’t in worse shape.  I should have kicked his ass more.” I hissed.  “I’m not in trouble, but I’m being asked about defending myself.”</p><p>Irons frowned, but kept a mostly straight face.  I could tell he didn’t like that I’d interrupted him...but he wanted something...it might not have to do with me...but he didn’t want on my bad side.</p><p>“See, I’m sure you’re a capable young woman...and you had every right to defend yourself.” Irons stated with all the false sweetness he could muster.  “Nathan said though that Captain Wesker was very unfair with him, that he was rougher than a police officer needs to be.  That’s not okay, as I’m sure you understand with your brother, officers can’t act that way.  It’s Nathan’s word against the Captain’s...so you understand as the only witness we needed to ask you if the Captain had been abusing his position.”</p><p>Yeah...probably...but Nathan fucking deserved it...and fuck if more people don’t deserve to get their asses kicked for acting like that.  I couldn’t say that though.  It would be a death sentence to a man Chris seemed to admire…</p><p>“Nope, it was all me.” I said after a moment of pause.</p><p>“If he threatened you...you can tell us.  He can’t hurt you here.” Irons stated, clearly pressuring me.  I wasn’t sure what Wesker had done to annoy the chief of police, but it was obvious he was looking for a reason to go after him.  I didn’t like this though, the backroom summoning and questioning.  Sure, I wasn’t a wilting flower but calling me in to ask me questions like this and pressure me after what happened was shitty and I knew it.</p><p>“No, he helped me.  Nathan should be nicer, honestly if the Captain hadn’t been there I probably would have kicked the shit out of him even more.” I said instead.  I was a minor, I could state that I would hurt the hell out of someone that tried to rape me and they couldn’t really argue.</p><p>“I see…” Irons stated, tone a little clipped.  “That’s great to hear, I’m glad Nathan’s words are just that.  I’m also glad to see you’re doing well.”</p><p>“Dandy, can I go back to class?” I asked, annoyed at this little shit-show.</p><p>“Of course, Miss Redfield.  Thank you for coming in.” The principle spoke up again.  He looked a little terrified, and he was probably about to be yelled at...but since he was in on calling me in for this...screw him too.  I scowled at them both before heading out of the office.  I hated adults and their bull.  Wesker definitely deserved better, I needed to let him know that Irons was out for him...and that I wasn’t planning to turn him in, but someone else might.  Raccoon City needed every good cop it could get.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This was rough but I got there.  I only wrote and rewrote this entire chapter a half-dozen times total to finally get it where I wanted it.  It’s very different from where it started, but I like what I ended up with.  Moar action will be coming up soon.  : )</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Outlaw Torn</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wesker recalls more of the past, and the relocation of him as a prisoner doesn't quite go to plan.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>"And if I close my mind in fear, please pry it open.  (See me) And if my face becomes sincere...beware."</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>-Metallica, Outlaw Torn</b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Wesker (Present Day) - 2009 - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is awful…” Claire remarked, starting at the small container of pre-packaged sausages I’d handed her while we sat on the back of the coptier.  “What was Leon thinking?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She stared at the meat, if one could call it that, half-coagulated in some sort of gel.  They didn’t actually taste awful, but I understood her trepidation.  Whatever this was, it was clearly meant for survival purposes and not daily consumption.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll stomach it, you need the protein.” I pointed out.  “You’ll have fresher food soon enough given we’re being relocated.  You can make due until then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nasty.” Her nose was still turned up in distaste.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would you rather I come feed it to you?” I grinned at the glare she leveled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can feed myself.” She retorted hotely, adding.  “It’s still gross.  Now I know I definitely couldn’t have done the military service thing...I don’t get how people can stomach crap like this.  Like M.R.E.’s aren’t bad enough.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The food does possess some drawbacks.” I admitted to her continued revulsion.  “It’ll be enough that we don’t have to stomach it several times a day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leon clearly is pissed at me for all this...he’s taking it out on me hoping I get food poisoning.” She sulked, poking at the meat without pulling any sausages out.  She’d been in a poor mood ever since we’d left and the boy scout had little to say beyond take off protocols.  I didn’t particularly understand her social attachment since he didn’t share her attraction, but then, I rarely understand any deeper social relationships.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’ve had very few friendships of my own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You're thinking about how to dump the food and act like you ate it, but not have to stomach it?” She asked when I got distracted a moment.  I had been considering Will, but given her own history with my former roommate and partner in crime I altered the topic slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just considering family.” I answered.  Common ground was my best way to win her over, and I needed even a fake ally with the game changing so suddenly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You?  I didn’t think you had a real family.  I didn’t think you were even actually related to Spencer.” Her eyes had widened a little at my comment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where did you think I came from?” I asked, wondering what she pictured my childhood to be like.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guessed Umbrella grew you out of a tube or something.” She shrugged, but I’d gotten her curious.  “What was your family like?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I nodded toward her food, I could use this little game in multiple ways.  Getting her to eat while having her think she was buying answers worked well enough to keep her from thinking I wanted her to hear more, to get closer.  She frowned at me, then dutifully took a bite of the sausage and chewed, her face made it clear she didn’t like it but she didn’t spit it out either.  Then she nodded to me.  “Spill.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was adopted at a young age with my sister.  Neither of us recall our biological parents, we may not even be biological siblings ourselves.” I explained dutifully since she’d started eating.  “Our adoptive parents were doctors at a local hospital.  They weren’t horrible to us, but I wouldn’t say they were dream parents.  They focused on us heavily, wanting us to become doctors.  Education was a primary theme in my youth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thus the doctorate at a young age.” She remarked, eating now that I had distracted her with conversation.  I nodded at her observation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.  I graduated at a young age, and Umbrella had taken an interest in me even then.  They helped pay for student loans and supported my education, so working for them seemed a natural step.  Once I left home, I never really spoke to my adoptive parents again.” I explained, noting the way she glanced out toward the forests passing by beneath us.  Then, she likely thought my blaise description cold given what had happened to her family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about your sister?’ She asked after a moment, pushing directly past the parental talk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We kept in better contact, though we remained fairly distant after we moved out of the house.  Neither of us were brought up to be overly attached to anything.  I’d like to think she mourned my passing, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t.” I explained, glancing at my own canned sausages.  How would Alex even feel if she knew I’d returned from the grave and was here?  Would she try to help?  Turn me into a new experiment if given the chance?  Probably try to claim she was helping while experimenting…if she wasn’t the one behind my attempted kidnapping in the first place.  It didn’t bode well that not that many people should have known the location of Spencer’s castle or how to get into it’s labs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure she did.” Claire said softly, drawing my attention back to her.  “You just have a connection to siblings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I explained, we weren’t overly close.  More than we were to our parents, but that was a low bar to begin with.” I shrugged.  “I’m not searching for sympathy.  I wish her well regardless of her feelings toward me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You might not have been as close as me and Chris, but I’m sure she felt a loss when she heard about what happened.” Claire doubled down on her comment.  “I admit you aren’t lovable exactly, but you were her brother.  That’s not a position that’s ever replaced.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm.” I was chewing so let her interpret the noise as she liked.  It was good that she wanted to offer some sort of comfort, that she was getting to know me...but I wasn’t going to take her optimistic views too seriously.  I couldn’t imagine she would get on very well with Alex if the two of them ever met.  Alex would be decidedly annoyed by her, if sometimes impressed with the tenacity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, if you had your doctorate so young...did you even attend normal school?” She asked, apparently wanting to get to know more about me.  Did she have some agenda of her own?  It worked with my own plans for now though so I replied.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not really.  I went to a private school and had many private tutors, as did my sister.  We had a few extracurricular activities we were allowed to attend, but largely it was academics.” I explained, avoiding using Alex’s name.  “I expect that was the general treatment of most of the children in the project.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The project?” She stared at me blankly.  Had Chris not explained it to her?  There was no way the lesser Redfield hadn’t found some sort of record of it.  Hmm, perhaps they were less close than I’d always imagined, or at least he kept her more in the dark about bio-terror information than I would have believed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Project W.  It was the eugenics project that inspired the creation of Umbrella in the first place.  To make a complicated subject short; Umbrella adopted or took children of considerable intellect or possessing superior DNA to rehome and train them themselves in the manner of ideals they desired for future generations.” I stated, a bit annoyed at the memory of how Spencer had derailed my life from such an early stage.  “Of the several hundred children first introduced to the project, only my sister and I were successful candidates.  Apparently, they should have handed more of the children to our adoptive parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...still pretty close to the test tube then.  They controlled your environment and the like.” Claire frowned at me, there it was...the pity.  “No wonder you’re so fucked up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, well.  I’m alive, unlike Spencer, so it worked out.” I remarked, keeping Alex’s story to myself.  Was she even still alive?  Her health had been degrading rapidly.  I had to admit, I would miss her if she’d died.  Perhaps Claire was correct about siblings maintaining some form of connection that was difficult to quantify.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you tried to murder the world and turned into a class A monster.  Not sure I’d write that off in planetary success stories.” Claire retorted, her harshness back when she seemed to realize she’d been sympathizing.  “God, the things you could have done for mankind if you hadn’t turned into a psychopath.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ever the optimist.” I stated, it wasn’t a compliment.  “If you’re done eating, you should get some more res…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nooooo.” She groaned in the middle of my statement. “I’ve mostly been sleeping for a week, it’s horrible.  I’m on a helicopter, you can at least let me enjoy the view.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” It wasn’t worth the argument with Leon nearby.  He might be able to hear part of our conversation.  I let her enjoy the view and glanced out my own window.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We were racing to a new place.  BSAA headquarters, where they hoped to cage me...I wasn’t too keen on just agreeing again now that I had a choice.  There would be too many people aware of my return to make waiting out the deaths of my enemies as viable a plan...I’d have to wait and see how this went.  I wanted to keep Claire close, I knew I could trust her to keep to her own view of integrity at the very least.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>A few days after prom... (1996) - Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>This was a horrible idea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stared at the Redfield apartment wishing I was somewhere else…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was not how I wanted to spend my night, but I had to keep up appearances and I needed to nip this in the bud before it got out of hand.  Chris’ sister had apparently gotten the wrong idea the other day judging by the phone call earlier...</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m sorry?” I remarked, unsure of what I was hearing on the phone.  She’d called my office for this?  Great...this was the last thing I needed.  I rubbed my face in irritation as she repeated her previous question.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I uh...wanted to invite you to dinner.  To thank you for your help at the dance.” The female Redfield’s young voice was a bit uncertain on the other side of the line.  “Chris will be there, you guys can drink beer, or something.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d agreed to come, but only because I wanted to make sure she knew I was just doing my job and that this wasn’t going to be a regular thing.  I knocked on the door, a bit glad it was Chris that answered and not his sister.  I offered a nod and handed over a bottle of wine...he looked like he wasn’t sure what to do with it, but he took it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, hey cap.” Chris greeted, taking the bottle.  “Thanks, come on in.  Claire told me you helped her out at prom.  What a dick kid, thanks for that...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just did my job.” I answered, at least the place was mostly tidy, unlike the last time I’d been forced to come by and pick Chris up.  They must have cleaned just for this.  None of us were comfortable…  “I expect not to get such invites in the future, it would look bad if I gave the impression I favored any particular officer.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, yeah...of course.  I would have told Claire not to bother, but she’d already called you.  I was surprised you accepted…” Chris said with a nervous chuckle.  “Still, I guess it’s okay since she wanted to thank you.  Want a beer?  Want me to open the wine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A beer is fine.” I said, knowing that was the expectation.  He nodded in minor relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cool, be right back, make yourself at home.”  Chris offered, he meant well at least.  He was a good officer, he just...wasn’t sure how to take this and I didn’t blame him.  It wasn’t the most professional thing...but I wanted to make sure he knew nothing untoward was happening.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello Captain Wesker.” Claire this time.  She offered a more natural smile than her brother had.  “Food should be done pretty soon.  Uh, can we talk a second.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” I remarked before she could press forward.  “You’re a beautiful young woman, but I was just doing my job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” She stared at me blankly, and I bit my tongue slightly...that wasn’t why she’d called then.  “No...No!  I wasn’t...ew...aren’t you like seventy?  Nope.  Not interested.  No.  I just wanted to tell you that Irons came by my school and tried to get me to narc on you for being too aggressive toward Nathan.  I told him it was all me, but he seemed like he had it out for you and you were decent.  I’m not even staying, I’m going to a friends house…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was blushing a little, but her words were honest enough that I believed her.  She was embarrassed by the implication, not because it was true.  She offered an awkward wave and another muttered thanks before escaping out of the house.  I frowned after her, she arranged all this just to tell me that?  It was good to know Irons was up to something...but she could have just told me on the phone.  I sighed as Chris headed back in to offer me a beer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least now I knew I needed to have William keep that prick on a shorter leash…</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire:</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesker was quiet for most of the trip after pushing me to eat.  Even if he’d lacked his sunglasses I expect he would have been unexpressive.  I was a bit nervous he was going to just decide to leave me and Leon behind and yeet out of the helicopter.  Was it creepier that he stayed?  I wasn’t sure yet.  I knew, at least for now, I had to stay close to him.  I didn’t really get a story together with Leon before we’d left, but I was starting to get nervous about it.  What if they decided we were culpable bad guys for helping Wesker?  We sort of were, right?  Accessories or something?  I didn’t know nearly enough legal stuff to be dealing with this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Second thoughts, dear heart?” Wesker’s voice drew my attention away from the landscape.  “Regretting looking after me now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I shrugged at him, he had to know the answer to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t say this went the way I hoped.” I sighed and looked back outside.  “Do I regret saving you?  Not really, I’d do it again if it came down to it.  I think I’d still have done the same thing, just with less of a trail and not getting infected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So as long as I was still in that cell.” He pointed out and I nodded to him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yep, I still think you need to be punished...stopped from doing the same thing again.   You’re a grade-A prick, but you’ve helped me more than once, so you don’t deserve endless torture or abuse.  Like you said, I’m one of the good guys.” I explained as best I could.  I felt a bit bad not wanting worse knowing some of what he did.  He was still helping me even now and regardless of what he might still do I couldn’t let that make me a bad person.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a trait I appreciate.” He said, as if amused by my description.  I crossed my arms and shook my head at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not for you, you...”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My incoming tirade of insults was interrupted when the entire coptier veered suddenly and had I not been strapped down I would have gone bouncing around the interior.  As it was the bags we’d thrown on real fast had flown to the other end of the cabin.  Leon was yelling and flipping switches and Wesker had vanished from his seat to the front where he was also helping pull the steering back on course with the metal screeching from the effort.  He was probably the only reason we hadn’t spun out completely…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alarms were blaring and red lights were flickering on everywhere in the cab.  We were losing altitude and I braced as I felt the cab shutter when it hit the canopy.  Even without spinning out, we were still going down hard…</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Wesker:</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>The whistling of the rocket in the air was the only warning we had a moment before the boy scout managed to veer out of the way.  Of course, if I hadn’t already been taking off my belt and moving to help control it then we would have spun out for his deft dodge.  The end result wasn’t going to change, we were going down and swiftly.  Whoever had shot at us had still gotten what they wanted, us no longer in the air.  We’d expected they might be watching when we left, but they’d waited quite a while to act.  It was probably a planned area away from any large cities…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We hit the trees and I left the boy scout to his own devices to move for Claire, I wasn’t done with her yet.  She had her arms out to brace herself.  The terrified expression on her face widening further when she realized I was in front of her.  I released her seat belt even as she tried to react to stop me.  I opened the door with one hand as I lifted her with the other.  Jumping was the best option for us, getting stuck inside this thing once it hit the ground was bad news.  She screamed as I pulled her with me out the door, holding her against my chest so I’d absorb more of the impact of the fall.  I surmised she’d get over the rescue as my back broke through several branches with sharp painful snaps before crashing harshly into the forest floor.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We both grunted from the impact, though I knew I’d taken more of it.  She would probably bruise at worst.  I coughed and glanced after the metal death trap that had hit the earth and then bounced twice, blades of the coptier both on the top and tail flying offward in a destructive spectacle of deadly shrapnel.  We were luckily far enough to be spared from taking damage from it, the forest was less fortunate.  The front had taken less of the brunt than the back part of the cab; Claire definitely wouldn’t have made it.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Leon…” Claire breathed the name, coughing and starting to push herself up.  I grabbed her arm to pause her.  Looking around there were no immediate soldiers, but that would be a matter of when and not if.  The boy scout possibly could have survived, but he wasn’t my first concern.  Clearly he wasn’t a useful asset at the moment.  “Hey, we have to help him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, we need to go before they get here.  That wasn’t weak firepower they tried to shoot us down with.  You’re lucky you aren’t dead already.”  I let go of her to push myself up, trying to ignore the pain along my spine after the fall.  When I turned back she was already running back toward the coptier...I grit my teeth and followed after her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Right now her being a ‘good guy’ was less than convenient.  I was tempted to leave them to their fate with this unknown group...but I wasn’t willing to give up my long game just yet.  I had dispatched the first group readily enough, so I’d have to hope this wasn’t going to be much worse when they caught up.  Leon was alive when we got to him, but he’d taken a hit to the head and he wasn’t conscious.  She was getting him free of the restraints which meant she wanted to bring him.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Great...he was going to just slow us down…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Help me with him.” She insisted, despite knowing her intent.  It wasn’t as if I could easily carry them both.  I eyed her instead of moving, still not sure if I should just ditch him and knock her out.  Then, she wouldn’t take that well, it would be quite ‘villainous’ of me.  “Wesker, come on, we can argue later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” I figured that word would make it clear how much I didn’t like this. “Get the bag of medical supplies I’d brought, most should be undamaged.  Keep up, She-field.  We need to get away from whoever shot us down, lets go.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Heh.  “Aren’t you like seventy?”  Ahahahaha.  Poor Wesker.  Past him is silently like: wtf, fuck teenagers...and not sure if it was better when he thought she had a crush.  Ego bruised.  XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Courtesy Call</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Action oriented chapter where Wesker gets to test out how his newfound powers are going now that he's mostly healed up.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Ten</b>
  <span>: </span>
  <b>
    <em>Courtesy Call</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I am not afraid of the storm that comes my way.  When it hits it shakes me to the core, and makes me stronger than before...It's not a question about trust, but will you stand with us?</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>-Thousand Foot Krutch, </b>
  <b>
    <em>Courtesy Call</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The distaste on his face said it all.  I was ready for Wesker to outright refuse to help Leon.  To either drag me away or finally be done with this and just leave.  Instead he agreed, and while he sounded less than happy I couldn’t exactly be sad about him helping Leon out.  I grabbed the bag he directed and started to dash after him through the woods as fast as I safely could.  He was definitely slowing down to let me keep up, but he didn’t seem winded by having to carry Leon.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasn’t going at the fastest pace, but he kept following paths that looked natural, as if made by animals.  Was he trying to make sure they couldn’t track us?  I guessed that was pretty wise considering we were basically running for our lives.  Well, my life anyway...his freedom I’d expect.  At least, as far as we knew…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I did my best just to keep up, but this was rough when I was still also not really finished being treated for my infection.  Was this going to make it worse?  Probably, that was the way he’d described it before.  I couldn’t really keep up and make conversation though.  Eventually he bent down near a partial hill that looked like it could have been an animal den, or could possibly still be, setting Leon down.  I was about to protest when he moved to cover Leon with leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” I hissed as softly as I could.  Moving closer, not sure if I should help...he could be hiding him, but he could be burying him…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m hiding you both.  At this rate we’ll be a lot worse if we let them catch up to us.” He answered without looking at me.  “I can’t babysit you and fight them.  You’ll stay and watch him and I’ll pick them off until they retreat or can’t retreat.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“...but we don’t know how many there are.” I replied, glancing around the unfamiliar forest nervously.  I had some survival skills and had been camping a few times, but I hadn’t packed a compass.  Even if I had…  “What are we supposed to do if you don’t come back?  I don’t have the strength to just carry Leon.  Not to mention, he can’t be doing well since he’s still unconscious, he needs a doctor.  I could start transforming since I still have the infection…”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I pulled back when Wesker pressed the pad of a gloved finger against my lips, but I definitely stopped talking.  I stared at him like the oven had reached out to burn me...he nodded toward Leon, his own comments barely above a whisper.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He’ll survive, he’s not cold or feverish.  He probably has some sort of trauma to his skull.  Knowing Kennedy, he will be fine.  He didn’t injure anything important.” Wesker threw in the final little insult after his explanation.  “He could go into shock though, if he’s not kept warm enough.  You need to lay next to him, and I’ll cover you up as well.  Come on, we don’t have time to argue about this.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wesker clearly planned to go murder these men.  I shouldn’t mind that much since they’d just tried to kill us all.  If it was us or them...I picked me.  With trepidation I crawled in next to Leon to lay against him the way Wesker suggested.  I coughed and shook my head when he got a bit of dirt close to my face in his hurried movements to hide us.  I sent him a dirty look, but he wasn’t paying attention.  He hadn’t done it on purpose to provoke a reaction, his jaw was set as he covered us up.  I didn’t press him, too nervous we could be heard.  Also because I didn’t know what I’d even ask. This seemed like a horrible idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Okay...they’re getting too close for me to continue.  Stay here.  I’ll be back for you.  If they find you, scream and I’ll see what I can do.  Or shoot them if you can, you should know how to use Leon’s weapon there.” Wesker commented, then he was gone.  I swallowed and pulled myself a bit closer to Leon when I heard the shooting start.  I buried my head in his shoulder trying not to think about what would happen if we were found or Wesker was brought low enough to be taken…I had been in worse circumstances?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’d enjoyed a stint of hunting now and again back when I was still human.  The prey would be different, but the general concepts were the same.  The same quiet that left Claire uncomfortable was useful now.  I crept close to the first group I’d heard without them noticing.  They were walking through the forest toward where I’d hidden Claire and the boy scout. They’d need to be removed first since they were the biggest threat.  I wasn’t quite willing to give up my test subject yet, she had lots of data yet to yield.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Seven of them...I could handle that if I got a few before the others realized.  Then, I didn’t know how many of these teams my mysterious enemy had sent.  If it was specifically to target me, then just one group wasn’t nearly enough.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The first two were close enough that they had the most merciful deaths.  I doubted either of them comprehended I’d reached them before they were already dead.  I plucked the knife from one to slide into my boot and took the gun and radio from the second.  I noted the frequency before turning the radio off for now, not wanting to give away my position by any noise it could make.  I killed four members of the first group before the remaining realized they didn’t have friends still around them.  Not bad.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Shit, it doubled back.  Dangerous B.O.W. is killing our own.  Several members of B group down.” One of the men reported into his radio.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wouldn’t be the first time I murdered a bravo team.” I commented, catching the gun of the man reporting in before he could fire it at me.  I slammed the butt of it into his face with enough force to crush his nose into his brain.  He was still falling when the last two members opened fire at me.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I leapt to the side of the onslaught of metal projectiles, running several feet up the trunk of a tree that was splintering behind me from the bullets.  Pushing off the vertical surface I soared over the top of one of them, catching him as I went to fling him toward the second.  I caught a bullet in my left thigh for the maneuver, but I’d also taken them both down. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Not that I had a second to rest or remove the pellet buried in my leg.  Now that the other teams had been alerted they were rushing this way.  Several others had been close enough that more bullets were starting to fly.  The element of surprise was gone, along with the advantage it had offered.  They’d been expecting to have to hunt me, not to become the prey themselves.  It was going to get harder from here on in.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I smirked despite the pain arching through my lower body...nothing critical had been damaged.  I could continue to fight.  Let whoever thought they could simply kidnap Albert Wesker see what consequences would result.  I’d murder a hundred men tonight if that’s what they sent.  No mercy was the strongest message to send.  Besides, I needed to see how I was compared to before the accident.  This would be a good judge of how much I’d actually recovered.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My speed was down, at least so far, I knew that from my interactions to this point.  My regeneration seemed even better than it had been, though that offered complications of it’s own with enemies using these specialized rounds.  If the weapons didn’t cut fully through, then my body just regenerated around them.  It would be less than fun digging out ones that just stayed later.  My senses had improved since before the accident, I’d always been observant, but the details came easier.  It was well into dusk now, the forest barely had light thanks to the thick canopy and I could still pick out color differences as if it were day.  I adjusted to the environment easily enough, I appreciated that.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My self-reflection ended when another slug tore into my back close enough to the spine to be both a wave of agony and threaten to cut off important nerves.  I reached back to rip out the offending ammunition, ignoring the pour of blood since I knew the wound would close.  I ducked behind a larger trunk to avoid more of the projectiles.  Gritting my teeth I winced a little at the hail of destruction cutting at the bark of either side of the tree.  They’d positioned themselves well, so I couldn’t stay here or it was a matter of time before they got a lucky shot or two.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Taking a deep breath, I cut out swiftly to the right, doing my best to ignore the new wounds I earned for my charging through enemy fire.  They hadn’t expected it though, and the fearful look on the front man’s face was still there when my hand went through his chest.  Even the other combatants took a mistaken moment of pause at witnessing me pull the heart from their compatriot.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Let that horror sink in.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re next.” I remarked, staring at the fearful youth.  My words seemed to make his eyes go even wider, as though my being able to speak made this more terrifying.  Had they forgotten who I was?  Did they even know who they were after in the first place?  I should probably leave one or two alive just to question them.  The man managed to get his gun up to take a shot, but I blocked it with his teammate's body.  I’d leave a few to question, just not this one…there was a certain satisfaction in crushing a man’s skull into the ground.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>More bullets cut into my chest from yet another group, but I managed to flicker across the field toward them fast enough to cut them off.  The knife I’d picked up earlier buried itself straight through the armor and into a man’s heart where I threw it.  My aim wasn’t bad.  Strength was definitely still a factor for me, I couldn’t tell in this sort of circumstances if it was the same or better.  My boot met with a second opponent’s chest.  The crunch of several bones meant even if he was alive, he wasn’t going to still be a threat.  They were screaming and calling for help regularly now, not that I was the sort of god to react well to prayers. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A high pitched whistle alerted me before I saw anything.  I turned just in time to catch the missile in my hands, pressed back a few feet in the dirt before I managed to turn the head away and into the ground nearby.  The explosion lifting me into the air, tossing me to the side along with dirt and branches.  I rolled when I hit the ground, grunting at the impact and doing my best to ignore the blood still coming out of the several bullet wounds I’d taken.  I wasn’t going to be able to just keep this up forever.  I lacked time to really recover.  I ran toward the man with the launcher, they were still reloading - which I appreciated since it would save me the time of doing it myself.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I took another two bullets as I dashed over to the man with the rocket launcher, there were quite a few, but they’d gathered in one area.  A mistake I planned to take advantage of presently.  I lifted the soldier on the launcher, tossing him away and snatching the weapon.  Spinning to point it at the gathered attackers and barely taking the moment to aim before releasing the missile.  That took care of a group almost entirely by itself...but a shot from behind took off part of my ear.  This was going to be a long night...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>As long as the shooting is going, he’s still fighting…</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I had lost count of gunshots pretty quick, and there had been several flurries of fire and explosions that had gone off for the long moments I laid here.  Covered in leaves and dirt, watching the fleeting light of the day as the air grew colder and darker.  By this time I was left effectively blind by the night I was feeling extra powerless.  There would be short bursts of quiet, where I sat somewhere between anxious hope it was over and sickening fear that meant Wesker wouldn’t return at all and this group had taken him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’d feel a moment of relief when the gunfire started again.  That too was brief however, the cold was really starting to set in, and being against the earth like this, even sharing heat Leon and I both were gonna end up too cold if the temperature dipped much more than it already had.  I couldn’t risk starting a fire, the enemies that could still be around would definitely be able to see it.  I shivered lightly as I stared into the nothingness.  Even if Wesker returned, I doubt I’d be able to make him out...more or less anyone else.  Sure, they might not be able to find us...but they had equipment to pick out the warmth that we lacked.  Leon and I were sitting ducks, and there was nothing I could do about it…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The quiet settled over us again after the latest skirmish and I tried to scan the forest uselessly.  There could be an entire army five feet from our location and I wouldn’t know.  I did what I could to ignore the feeling of bugs occasionally on my clothes.  At least I’d thought to tuck everything in as best I could.  The feeling of something in my hair that shouldn’t probably be there nearly got me to scream, and I moved to knock whatever it was off before freezing.  It’d been quiet awhile now and my own shifting made me suddenly aware of the noise I’d made.  The sounds of bugs had returned to the air and I still hadn’t heard another gunfire.  Shit...was Wesker captured then?  Was he done mass murdering them and just gonna leave us here?  Had he finished them but gotten so damaged he couldn’t move?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I couldn’t exactly just wait here so long I ended up freezing.  I could use my phone's flashlight to find some firewood, I’d seen a lot of fallen food around when we first got hidden.  I knew Leon probably had something in his equipment like a flint so I could start it...but Wesker had told me to wait.  That he’d be back, and some part of me had to believe him.  If he didn’t return, I would die eventually anyway, the infection in my system would take me a few days or weeks from now instead of tonight.  I had to protect Leon though, he deserved not to end up dead from shock if his body temperature got too low.  I had to make him a fire...even if it got us caught, he was dead if I didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I carefully pushed myself up, biting my lip from the soreness along my body from having laid in the same spot not moving for what was likely at least an hour or two.  It felt like it had been days.  I dusted leaves and soot from my hair, hoping I had gotten the bugs out too.  I reached to make sure I had the gun, taking it from Leon’s hip to add it to mine.  A weapon was always a good first choice at a time like this.  Just as well since I heard a twig snap, and it wasn’t that far.  I pulled the weapon up, squinting at the dark forest.  Another footstep...I put pressure on the trigger, almost shooting on accident when a tired voice broke the white noise of the woods.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“She-field, I’d rather you didn’t add to my wounds.” Yep, definitely Wesker.  A wave of relief swept over me, he’d actually returned like he said he would.  I put the gun away, jumping when he dropped something heavy nearby.  “Calm down, they are only knocked out.  I needed the pretty boy’s cuffs.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He brushed by me, but I couldn’t make him out.  There were patches of light here and there in the canopy, but none that offered me a view.  I dug for my phone, and gasped when I did get the flashlight on, nearly dropping it.  Wesker looked like he had walked straight from a horror film set.  His clothes, what was left of them, were tattered and littered with holes.  His hair and skin were dark red.  As was most of his body; some of which had open wounds still seeping red liquid.  He had pot marks and holes all over, he looked only vaguely better than when I’d first found him outside the volcano.  Probably only because he was moving and bleeding...it looked like he’d taken a dip in a pool filled with gore...  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Jesus...how many men had he killed?  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I brought some of what I could from the coptier and the supplies they had.” He stated, putting cuffs on a body he’d brought with as well.  The man in question was heavily bruised, but his chest was rising and falling.  “We’ll return to their vehicle once I get some rest.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wesker sagged into sitting after cuffing the man and gesturing toward whatever he’d dropped earlier.  I had dozens of questions in my head, but they all seemed too absurd to mention right now.  I could only gape stupidly before my mind slowly caught up to what he’d actually said.  I tore my gaze away from the chilling view of Wesker to the ‘supplies’.  Most was in a bag, so I went over to look inside.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Portable food stuff, but also a first aid kit and other things.  I continued to dig through...nodding at the flint and steel.  Okay, a fire...survival 101...I could make a fire.  I tossed an MRE toward Wesker, not wanting to look at him again.  I noted he’d also brought an extra medical bag with the drugs he’d been using on me.  Despite the fact that he’d just single handedly murdered an army, he still planned to fix my infection.  I wasn’t sure how to feel about all of this...I didn’t want to feel anything about it right now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll figure out a way to make a fire.  Eat.  You need it.” I hoped it would work as it had before, that the eating would give him the ability to regenerate through the worst damage.  If he kept bleeding out like he’d been then I was going to end up with two unconscious men to try and take care of.  I wasn’t sure we’d make it even as we were.  I knew I couldn’t manage if I lost them both, we were in the middle of nowhere and I couldn’t pilot aircraft.  I moved with the flashlight to get firewood, needing to stay busy after the recent shocking return.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I found several large pieces of wood.  It should get us through most of the night, but I might have to get more.  I didn’t want to stay away too long, or be out by myself in case he’d missed any soldiers.  All three bodies were still when I returned, though I noted the MRE had been ripped open and he’d already finished it.  He was still bleeding a little but it was down to a trickle from what had been a frighteningly steady flow.  I set the wood down and cleared what I could of grass around it, glad it hadn’t rained the past few days.  It took a little effort with the flint and steel, but I managed to get a fire started.  I fed it for a while, until it was large enough to see at least nearby without the phone and then nearly jumped out of my skin when I looked up and noted his demon cat eyes were open.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Ever the startled kitten.” Wesker remarked at my reaction...he must have lost his sunglasses in his skirmish.  Those eyes were extra creepy at night...with a fire…from a guy coated in blood...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah, well...I thought you were asleep.” I returned harshly, ignoring the unsteadiness in my own voice as I frowned at his comment.  I moved over to dust the dirt and leaves from Leon so I could drag him closer to the circle of the fire.  He didn’t feel so cold yet that I felt he was in danger...so hopefully whatever had knocked him out hadn’t done any permanent damage.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Poor Leon, he was only here cause I’d gotten him into this…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“The boy scout will live.” Wesker commented, and I tried not to shutter at the crimson gore when I glanced at him.  God did he look horrible.  “If he’s not in shock, then the fire will keep him warm.  He probably had a minor concussion, but he’s too cockroach-like to die from it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...I hope so…” I managed.  “Shit, do you need...help?  Like, seriously...you need to bathe.  You look almost as bad as when I found you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Almost...</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I am not recovering as quickly as I would like, but more food would probably speed the process.” He suggested, man, this guy...those things were chock full of calories and he was still like: </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘please sir, can I have some more?’.  </span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I plucked out another MRE to bring it over to him along with one of the canteens and a shirt in the backpack Leon had.  He could replace it.  I used it as a makeshift rag to pour a little water on before handing Wesker the canteen.  He took a long drink before pouring some over his head.  I started to reach toward his face, then just held the shirt out instead...tonight was definitely getting to me.  I’d nearly started grooming him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Wesker smiled, the whites of his teeth even more predatory with his face covered in blood.  He didn’t mock me though, taking both the extra meal and shirt.  At least he reached to clean up his face first as opposed to eating more.  I couldn’t exactly be super judgey, as far as I knew he’d just saved all three of us from whatever people were willing to take and test on him.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>That tally he’d mentioned was going up much too much in his favor for my taste…</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I had to throw in that bravo team comment.  It was too tempting to not.  I have roughs planned through several more chapters, but my free time is pretty nixed lately so I work when I can and as the muse allows.  Thanks for all the likes(kudos) and comments.  It's nice to know other people enjoy my odd couple here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. I'm Bad</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Wesker remembers some small bits of his past, and the group continues their trip after the interruption from his attackers.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I make the devil run.  I gave them poison, just for fun.  I had one friend, now there's none.</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>I make the devil run.  I broke so many bones, but none of them were ever my own.  They were an army, I was alone...</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p>
  <b>-Savages, </b>
  <b>
    <em>I’m Bad</em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Umbrella Company Retreat - (1985) - Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m pretty sure we’re lost.” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I’d heard the comment a lot the past hour.  I wasn’t even sure why William had come along on this trip.  Sure, it was paid for by the company, but he’d actively talked about how senseless hunting was during every other company retreat that he’d avoided.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re almost there.  You’re gonna scare off any game we get near.” I pointed out to him.  “If you must complain, keep your voice down.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Yeah...yeah…” He did drop his tone a little at the reminder, shoulders sagging.  He looked exhausted, had he even slept after we’d set camp up last night?  I doubted it.  I smirked at his clear distaste for this entire ‘holiday’.  “I should have just waited until you got back.  I don’t know how you can find any of this horrible experience enjoyable.  My back is killing me, and I have bites on my ass from bugs I’m sure I’d have a hard time identifying.  I’m sore, and the food sucks, and I’m pretty sure we’ve passed the same tree about seven times.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Some people actually enjoy nature.” I returned, pointing toward a set of trees with a ramshackle house constructed in the branches.  “We’re heading there.  We can pick off any deer or other approved game that gets too close.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We traveled a day away from civilization because you wanted to perch in that tetanus promising death trap?” William was clearly unconvinced that anything about this was a good idea.  Then, he was the one that suggested he should be my partner for the ‘friendly’ hunting competition.  It was so bizarre for his usual behavior I felt compelled to agree.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’ll probably like it more than the ground.” I offered, though I wasn’t sure of that.  It clearly wasn’t as well kept by the group that ran these company retreats as it had been years before.  I tested the wood first, if it held my weight then William would be fine.  I climbed up into the structure, glad the inside looked better than the out.  It had a little buildup of leaves, but it was clean enough that someone must have looked after it since I’d used it the previous year.  I set my bag down as William struggled to climb up then sprawled out on the floor.  He really needed to work out a little more.  I dug out binoculars to get a gauge of the land, there should be a good number of buck through this area since it was farther than some of the other groups had gone.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re having a little too much fun.” William commented without getting up from the ground as I surveyed the land outside.  “Clearly I came cause I wanted to talk to you about something important.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You could have waited until after the retreat, if you die here then it couldn’t have been that important.” I remarked, smirking at his over the top aversion to the outdoors.  “Still having trouble with people at the office?  You are basically in charge now, you could just fire them.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You know none of us are actually in charge.” William returned, sitting up only to lean on the wall instead of sprawl out on the floor.  “It’s not that anyway...it’s Annette.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” The non-committal sound seemed best.  I wasn’t sure how I felt about Will’s relationship with the other researcher.  She was smart enough, that was clear, but Will had always been clumsy at best when it came to romance.  Him bringing up girlfriends was usually because he was just starting to date and he wanted advice or they’d left him and he wanted to commiserate.  Generally though, he did that with alcohol and not joining the company hunting trip he abhorred.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I want to marry her.” He said softly, lacking the harshness he’d had for every other comment this trek.  I wasn’t even sure I’d heard him properly.  At Umbrella, romances rarely worked out, and marriages weren’t very common.  I finally frowned and dropped the binoculars back to my chest, giving up on shooting deer.  “Don’t look at me like that, I know how it usually goes.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I didn’t speak, if I let him he’d just keep talking.  I think that’s part of why we were friends, I let him just get things off his chest others might not.  Usually because I didn’t know what to say, but often because he knew what I’d say anyway.  William had always been clever in that way.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I just...I really like her Al.  Like...more than any of the others.  They were all smart, but she challenges me, and I can’t always just tell where her mind is gonna go.  She’s not as brilliant as me, but I think she’s the closest I’m gonna find that puts up with the way I am.” He ranted on.  “Besides, she’s...she’s ah pregnant.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Should I say congratulations?” I wasn’t sure.  Generally children weren’t really smiled upon in Umbrella employees either.  Two red marks was a lot to get in a short period, then Will had a habit of not caring what others thought of his actions...not dwelling on the opinions of others let him focus on more important details in research.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Dammit, Al.  I don’t know.  How are you so relaxed?  I’m terrified.  Doesn’t this surprise you at all?” William scowled at my lack of much response and finally pushed himself to his feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I didn’t expect it.” I admitted.  “If you’re only marrying her cause she’s pregnant, you don’t have to do that.  World changing, women power, all that.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m not planning to ask her just because of that.” William glanced outside, away from me as he said it.  It wasn’t ‘just because’, which meant it was at least partly why.  “Just because we work for Umbrella doesn’t mean we can’t have a family or be happy, Al.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Mmm.” It was better than scoffing at him.  I didn’t share such a rosy outlook.  I’d read between the lines enough with the company to know they’d be jumping through hoops to pull off this happy family image. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re better at not saying things than talking.” William remarked, frowning again.  “Can’t you say something else?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>What was I supposed to do with him anyway?  Tell him he was stupid?  That didn’t seem likely to turn out well.  Men didn’t traditionally listen when it came to the fairer sex, and William didn’t like anything that challenged his genius.  He was right that he wasn’t all that likely to find another woman that could put up with him.  I expected few people in general tolerated his odd behavior that well.  I played over any possible scenarios of protest and summarily dropped them as possible replies.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“If that’s what you want Will, then I’m happy for you.” I lied.  I doubt I’d ever understand his desire for a normal life, or a family, but I could at least wish him the best knowing it was what he wanted.  “Can we hunt now?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Hmm..” William knew it wasn’t everything I wanted to say.  We’d known each other too many years for him to not.  He let it go all the same, as I did.  It was part of why we’d gotten on so well...we knew when to let something go.  “I guess you’ll have to show me how to use all this stuff.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wesker.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>My name drew me out of the fragmented memories in my head.  The last time I’d been hunting in a scenic spot it hadn’t been for people.  It was an odd thing to come to mind now, it hadn’t been nearly as dire a position then either.  I opened one eye to look around, spotting Claire.  She was nearby and worse for wear.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The night had been hard on her.  She had dark circles under her eyes and there was still dirt on her face and in her hair.  Her expression was a mix of concern and nervousness, she hadn’t wanted to get close, but she had all the same.  She had pushed me to insist I wake with my name.  It was still quite early, the sun was barely starting to rise.  Had she slept at all?  The fire was still going, so I doubted it.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She’d stayed up keeping watch for all of us.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leon was sitting up as well, eyeing me in clear hate.  A blanket must have been found cause he had one over his shoulders.  The man I’d brought back was still where I’d dropped him.  He was breathing, but looked quite bad.  I probably should have gone a touch easier on him.  I wouldn’t get many answers if he didn’t wake up.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You alright?  We should get moving soon.” Claire’s voice drew my attention back to her.  Did she want the truth?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ve been worse.”  I remarked, it wasn’t a lie.  I could still feel uncomfortable pressure at several parts of my back.  I couldn’t reach the problem myself.  “I’ll need help cutting out bullets I missed yesterday.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’ll help.” Leon volunteered.  He reached for his knife with a somewhat disturbing joy at the prospect.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d rather have the ladies aid.” I replied, expecting Leon would deal extra damage just for the sake of doing so.  “You could gather more firewood or check the general perimeter.  The sooner we’re done the better.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s fine.” Claire remarked before Leon could retort.  “We don’t need to be fighting amongst ourselves right now, and he’s right...we don’t know how safe we are here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Leon frowned at Claire, then scowled at me.  Finally just shaking his head and pushing himself up.  “Just be careful with the monster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Despite his remarks, he stalked off toward the woods.  I wasn’t expecting to win over the boy scout, but at least he knew when to choose his battles.  I almost offered another insult when pain curled through my back at Claire stabbing into one of the wounds where the bullet was still in the skin.  I grunted instead of quipping at the president's lap dog, looking over my shoulder to glare at Claire for the literal knife in the back.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“God, how many times were you shot?”  She didn’t back off.  Then, she wasn’t looking at my disapproval and was actually focused on the wounds, so I relaxed as best I could.  Pain and I were old comrades by now…I’d come into this power in the first place through agony.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Too many.” I answered honestly.  It was never a fun experience to get shot, having to dig out shrapnel was even less so.  “I’m still not fully recovered, I’m too slow.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Murdered an army, wasn’t fast enough.” She murmured sarcastically, plucking one of the bullets free.  I chuckled before hissing lightly when she set her knife into the flesh near a second offending projectile.  She was trying to make it swift, at least she was lighter than I knew Kennedy would have been.  Now that the adrenaline of battle had passed it was harder to just outright ignore the pain.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thanks...again.” Claire murmured as she worked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“For getting shot?” I mused, trying to ignore the sharp needles of agony curling through my nerves.  There went another bullet, only one left.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No, this is disturbing as hell.  I’d rather you not get hit.” She insisted, fishing at the last projectile as she spoke.  “You came back.  I don’t know why you’re helping me...and it might be, well is probably selfish...but I appreciate it anyway.  You helped me and Leon both, and it’s clear you suffered for it.  So, thank you.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She got the last of the offending pieces of metal free, wiping her hands on her pants and frowning at the blood on them.  I couldn’t exactly blame her for that.  I wasn’t all that comfortable with all the gore caked on my skin at the moment either.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You are welcome.” I remarked, it was an odd set of words to utter.  I’d said it many times, but it wasn’t exactly a phrase I used genuinely.  Then, I wasn’t accustomed to that much honest appreciation these days either.  It was a sort of thanks of my own, since it would have been a lot less comfortable to leave foreign objects under my skin.  She nodded lightly and we stared at each other awkwardly a moment.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The alien moment passed when the man I’d brought with me began to stir.  He stared in horror at me as he came to.  I smirked at the expression...I liked when people gaped in abject terror.  It should make it much easier to interrogate him…</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Good morning.” I remarked with false sweetness.  “Hope you slept well.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The guy didn’t answer, his mouth hanging slightly open several seconds before he snapped it shut, eyes still wide as he slowly took me in.  Just as well I hadn’t cleaned up too much yet really.  I wasn’t in the mood to torture him, that was too tiring and I still had healing to do.  Eventually his eyes made his way back up to mine, but even those weren’t human and he recognized it.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“So, who are you here working for?” I asked once he had the moment to take in just a snapshot of what I’d done to his fellow troops.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He stared, probably trying to decide what he could or should say.  It was clear that nothing was not going to be an option, but I could wait for him to figure that out himself.  Being brave wasn’t going to do him any favors.  We didn’t have time to wait all day, but we had enough for him to add things up on his own.  He eventually swallowed as he realized he wasn’t going to do well if he didn’t talk.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We...I work for the group.  We’re mercs.  We do...did a lot of odd jobs, we’re hired out for specific missions when troops at hand either need help or can’t handle it themselves.” He answered.  “We don’t really take details on employers.  I wasn’t the one running comms between our patrons this job anyway.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You have some idea generally.” I pointed out.  There were always rumors.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Word was it was American money,” the guy stated after another moment to digest what he could get away with saying.  “Government black ops that didn’t want to use any troops that could connect back, not the first time we’d done something like this through back channels.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I expect not if you are hunting B.O.W’s.” I remarked thoughtfully.  Though, I knew after the fall of Umbrella that a lot of ex-security had taken up such positions with mercenary bands.  Not much other use for the sort of resume they possessed.  It made sense that they’d hire a large coordinated group.  It also explained the lack of much back up after I’d finished off the men last night.  A lack of report back was probably quite a threat.  “Which of your men was the one communicating?  Where did you get your information?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“We didn’t really talk about all the details, what with the need for stuff to be confidential.  I’d say ask him, but you broke Nate’s skull with your bare hands.” The man, to his credit, didn’t shiver at the memory.  No real leads would make any possible tracking more difficult...but knowing it was American government did help narrow it down.  It also made it unlikely to be Alex, her fingers weren’t in that pie.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“You were under orders to kidnap or kill?” I asked, curious if anything as such had been requested.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Information was that we did enough damage and we could drag you in.  I knew we weren’t bringing enough firepower...” The man said darkly, obviously regretting that they’d taken this particular job.  “We were told you were a particularly dangerous one…but that was all.  Orders were to kill anyone aiding you outright.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Understated then.  Even though he worked for the government in a high position I doubted Kennedy knew about it.  He probably would have joined in on the attempted kidnapping if he had.  Just as possible anyone that knew he’d been involved in helping me the first time wanted to take him down with us to tie off that possible issue later.  Not the president most likely...</span>
</p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>Interesting. </span>
  </em>
  
</p>
<p>
  <span>Was this a new player then or just an old one pulling strings?  There weren’t that many American based companies with enough sway in biological research to have pulled into a position as strong as Tri-cell.  So, presuming Tri-cell fell apart after my temporary defeat...what then?  I needed to check my data, see one of my personal safe sites and send some emails.  If one group knew I was back, just staying quiet wouldn’t last.  Eventually my return would get out, rumors involving me had a way of spreading like wildfire in the world of bio-terror.  If I didn’t find a way to re-establish some sort of a position of power swiftly, then this wouldn’t be the only group looking to pluck me for their own ends.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>I lacked enough information to make a reasonable guess at the moment.  That seemed about all the use this one would be.  I pulled my gun and left a bullet in his head before he could scream.  Claire stared in shock, apparently not having expected me to fire and I could hear Kennedy hightailing it back here from somewhere further out, I could hear the distant crashing through the leaves.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Why did you shoot him?” Claire glanced between me and the bleeding corpse, horrified.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“He wasn’t going to just let this go, at best he sells information on us and what he saw.  Bad for everyone.  The less they know the better.” I put my gun away and let her gape, reaching to find more food.  The sooner I recovered from the latest wounds the better.  “You also need to take your treatment, you’re already behind.  Then we’ll need to move.  They had a helicopter and I secured it last night before I returned.  It’s not that bad of a walk, but we need to get moving soon on the off chance they had other teams left that will come looking.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What the hell?” Leon returned, scowling at the scene.  “Why did you shoot a prisoner?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I went over that already.” I remarked, pulling open an MRE to start preparing it.  “Could you guess who in your government was planning to try and kidnap me?  Making note, they were perfectly fine with letting you die to get me.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Leon glanced between Claire and I.  “Is he serious?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s what it sounded like.” Claire confirmed, she still sounded dark after what had happened.  Probably blaming herself for all the people I’d killed given she’d saved me.  I wondered if those regrets hadn’t started up yet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know everyone in the US government, but that is a pretty high level of corruption if they could afford a group like this one.” Leon stated, sobering a bit as he realized just how bad this was.  It was enough that his animosity toward me had died down a moment.  “If they’re American government they probably had the clearance to know I was here.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Claire caught up with the rest of us.  “You mean they were just gonna kill you?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Tying off loose ends.” I explained, and Leon nodded hesitantly to her to confirm he had the same thought.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, fuck them.” Claire muttered, earning a nod from Leon and a smile from me.  I couldn’t argue the sentiment, even if it wouldn’t have been my exact choice of words.  I didn’t expect the best manners, better Redfield yes but still a member of the family.  Crassness seemed to be in their blood.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“This is a mess.” Leon observed bluntly.  “We need to go though, we can discuss the details later.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Agreed.” Claire had already been packing up the bag I’d brought with yesterday, avoiding glancing at the man dead in our camp.  </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>We had little else in the way of conversation, everyone in their own dark thoughts after the night's events.  I led them back to the enemy aircraft after we put out the fire, and turned on Leon to knock him out before he could react.  Claire wouldn’t like the change in plan, but I wasn’t going to go walking into an American funded organization after last night.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Wesker!” Claire reached for her gun, but I stopped her before Leon had even finished falling.  “What the hell is this?  He already had a concussion!  What are you doing?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Altering the plan.” I stated, holding her arm so she couldn’t pull the firearm.  I was very over being shot today.  “You want the boy scout alive, play nice or I won’t even take him on the craft.  You come along without argument and I’ll drop him at a hospital.  Besides, we could hardly let him pilot...we don’t have another backup vehicle.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She only stared at me, horrified and shocked.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Come on Shefield, I’m not going to hurt you unless you make me.” I taunted, which pulled in a touch of comprehension to what I was saying.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Glaring daggers she slowly released the tension in her arm.  I’d lost some of the ground I’d made, but that was worth getting another thorn out of my side.  I couldn’t keep Kennedy around and move as freely as I liked.  I could use him to keep my new project around and docile, at least for a short moment.  I’d take the dirty looks, she didn’t stop me when I loaded her unconscious friend and shot him up with a few painkillers.  Best to make sure he stayed under this time.  She didn’t say anything when I did her care for her infection as well...but she’d come around.  She’d been through enough trauma that she’d get over today’s.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Damn Wesker, why you so switch-hitter?  Sorry the chapter is a touch shorter than some others.  Much more is planned for the story as a whole, but that was a good break before the next piece.  I continue to work on roughs and then trying to get some cleaned up a little as life and my muse allows.  Thanks for continued support.   I'm glad people like my little crazy fic so much.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Anti-gravity</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire and Wesker continue to snark at each other while Wesker finds a jet to steal away back to the states and recalls a previous time where he prepared to 'come home'.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Chapter Twelve</b>
  <span>: </span>
  <b>
    <em>Antigravity</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But then fate knocks me to my knees, and sets new heights beyond my reach.  Below the earth, below concrete...the whole world shackled to my feet.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>-Starset,</b>
  <b>
    <em> Antigravity</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>My situation had reversed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This new development was shit.  So much for keeping Wesker prisoner, I was the one at his mercy now.  He’d mostly been...well probably nice for Wesker, to me at least.  That didn’t mean I wasn’t second guessing this whole punish him fairly thing.  He murdered dozens of men last night, I knew they probably weren’t good men...but he also had knocked Leon out cold when the guy was already suffering from head trauma. Who knew what was happening with Leon now...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesker had dropped Leon off at a hospital, but only so much that he had me roll him off the vehicle onto the helipad before we left.  I had been tempted to jump off myself...but I wasn’t sure what he might do to Leon or others that interfered so I hesitated until it wasn’t an option.  Another moment to regret soon enough given I was more at his mercy than ever...at least still in the castle I had the wrong impression that I had some sort of power.  I was learning pretty quickly that I didn’t…ignorance was bliss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t fret so much, dear heart.” His voice came on over the headset.  “You’ll give yourself worry lines.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...easy for you to say.  Why do you want me anyway?  You could have left me with Leon.” I pointed out, though I expected his answer before he gave it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t exactly cure you if you aren’t nearby.”  I hated it, but I was feeling pretty horrible after last night. “You should get some sleep, we’ll be traveling a while.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” I asked, not certain he’d even tell me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Eventually, back to America...it would be difficult to figure out who was hunting me somewhere else.” He answered calmly.  “You ever been to the east coast, She-field?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, I’ve traveled quite a bit for work…” I stated, still annoyed at how nonchalant he was about this.  “What’s your plan once you cured me then?  Run off?  I know you aren’t going to willingly go into a prison again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t willingly go the first time.” He pointed out.  “I don’t have plans to start back up Uroborus.  There are more pressing matters.  I want to cure you and figure out who is hunting me.  You need not believe me, but it would probably make you feel better if you did.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, super faith inspiring.” I deadpanned.  “Forgive me for not being at ease.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d be more surprised if you weren’t nervous,, but your situation hasn’t changed.  Look at it logically, She-field; this is no different than when I was caring for you at Spencer’s castle.  You might have thought differently then, but that was just a self-imposed illusion.” Wesker explained with the same infuriating neutrality.  “I still plan to cure you, which is in your best interest.  Regardless of how you feel about this change, it’s doing you no good to fight sleep just to argue with me.  I can tell you are exhausted, you didn’t even sleep last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t wrong, it was hard to stay awake.  Even with the dread that had set into my bones at watching Leon and the people running out at the hospital to help him disappear into the distance.  The whole world was too large and small all at once, like I was stuck in an abyss of nothingness while also being trapped in a bottomless hole.  Wesker might not be aggressive toward me now...but that didn’t mean he didn’t have plans for me.  I couldn’t imagine why else he would take me unless it was nefarious.  Falling asleep seemed like a measure of acceptance...and I didn’t want to give even the tiniest image that I assented to this.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going now?” I asked instead of entertaining unconsciousness.  “We can’t take a helicopter all the way over the Atlantic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We passed a stream earlier and there was enough clearance nearby to park this.  From what I can tell we’re in the French countryside.  As much as I’d like to keep moving, we need to clean up and get some rest before I steal a vehicle from the BSAA facility we were heading toward.  We’ll do that and then we’ll stop at one of my safehouses in America.” He explained simply.  He must be bad off to want to stop his machinations for rest.  “We won’t have much time, but we should be able to get in a nap before we start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, you want to steal an aircraft from a BSAA facility?” I blinked in surprise at his comment when it sunk in.  “Are you serious?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best if you rest while you can, once we start moving it’ll get harder to find time until we reach a safer destination.”  Wesker replied.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was serious...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t answer that.  I still didn’t want to sleep, this plan of his seemed a bit crazy.  Then, he’d stayed on the move and hidden from most of the world for over a century so I couldn’t really argue his ability for it.  If anyone was gonna know how to move without us getting caught or killed, it would be Wesker.  My eyes slowly drifted shut to scenarios on how I could escape, or if I even should...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Willpower didn’t really help against the long stressful hours added with the hypnotic drum of the helicopter’s engine and spinning blades.  I lost consciousness once I didn’t have an active conversation to keep me engaged.  He’d stopped speaking to me, and I hadn’t openly argued with him to continue the talk.  I drifted into blackness, and it seemed all too happy to have me.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - A few hours later... - Wesker - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I hum the Mission Impossible theme song?” Claire’s voice hissed over the communication device as I crept closer to the buildings that were my target.  She had a smug edge in her voice, self-satisfaction at her own joke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I gave you the radio access for emergencies.” I pointed out, turning my set down slightly in case she decided to ask more inane questions at inopportune moments.  “Once I enter the facility I’ll have to turn it off if you try to keep up a conversation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just nervous.” She retorted, and I could hear it even in the cracked tone that reached through the signal.  “Are you sure we couldn’t just take a normal airplane?  We could get wigs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Positive.” I returned, padding through the trees toward my target.  “Now stop talking.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I could picture her pouting at the radio and smirked just slightly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A moment later I was looking up and along the tall walls of the base I needed to infiltrate.  It had belonged to Umbrella once, but after they fell the government took it, and eventually it was adopted for use by the BSAA.  They would have the sort of equipment that I needed to move on however, a jet that I could repurpose to not be tracked as I’d done before.  I continued along through the trees, waiting to see the side entry that I knew was here at some point.  I doubted they would have been smart enough to close off all the emergency exits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“All right…” I reported my arrival to her.  “I see the old entry, they put a chain over it, but I’ll be heading in.  I need radio silence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” She replied, lacking any of the language generally used for this form of communication.  She stayed quiet after the single word reply so I could only hope she actually meant to remain so.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I turned the radio down a touch more just in case, and then slipped up to the building swiftly, breaking off the lock and getting myself inside as quickly as possible.  I shouldn’t be caught by anyone even watching the camera’s, but I did need to pause just a moment to get the lock broken.  No immediate alarms, so I eyed the dusty dark hall I was in with a shake of my head.  They didn’t even make full use of the facility.  You’d think they would have at least set up some better security.  Then, they weren’t really looking to defend against me…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just as well.  I headed through the corridor, remembering enough of the facility map to know how to use the underground to get close to the hangers.  I was ready to get this vehicle and move on.  I wanted to figure out what was going on with the mutation of Uroborus in Claire’s blood.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fact that it could disguise itself when threatened was a new and fascinating feature I hadn’t seen in my previous research.  Could she spread it without knowing?  Why sit idle in the blood?  Was it waiting for her to weaken to crawl back out?  I couldn’t know the answer to any of my many hypotheses without actually being able to test them.  Which required access to things I would have once we reached America.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stopped thinking about it once I reached the door back into the ground floor.  I could see light, which meant it was much more regularly used than the areas down here.  A few hallways and I’d reach the hanger bay.  I checked my magazines and slid the door just a touch open to look outside.  Definitely a hallway, the left should head back toward more common areas and the right was where I needed to go.  I didn’t see anyone immediately, but the hum of equipment was distantly audible.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet, and that made me hesitate.  I expected a touch more presence here.  Were they off on some mission?  Lying in ambush?  The latter didn’t seem overly likely, whoever was calling the shots at the top seemed to want to keep my existence silent.  I padded down the hall toward my destination, ducking into another side door when I heard a conversation ahead of me.   A man and woman passed my hiding place still chatting about what to do with leave.  Nothing suspicious.  Good, the fewer people I alerted, the better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I waited for their conversation to fade before returning to my walk.  The final hall had more voices filtering down to me from the different rooms on either side.  I didn’t recognize any, just as well.  I walked swiftly toward the exit door, knowing I was likely to be seen by someone sooner or later.  Just acting like you were where you belonged might normally work in cases like this, but given the gore caked into my clothes and still in my hair I knew I didn’t have that luxury.  I had to move fast.  I know I earned a glance or two, but I was out the door before anyone took the time to call me.  By the time they’d walk out after, if they did, I was in the hanger already.  I sped past a small group laughing about some joke and straight onto a jet.  If they saw me, I couldn’t say...but I went straight for the black box to remove it.  The sooner I had any tracking equipment gone, the sooner I could take off and be done with this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The snag I was waiting for came when I realized the jet in question was still being worked on...it had a few open panels.  Which meant it might not even be fueled.  There was another in the hanger outside, but it had been further away and I had no method to reach it without being spotted...though I wasn’t sure I hadn’t already.  The laughter hadn’t continued to echo in the large storage space.  I pulled my gun out, holding it behind the leather of my coat just in case and slipped back toward the front of the craft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Claire was going to be particularly annoyed after our earlier conversation…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No way I’m letting you go alone,” She refused immediately.  “You’ll just kill everyone.  At least maybe I can talk you into just sneaking in.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The plan is to sneak, dear heart.” I mused.  “Do you really think I just charge in murdering everyone I see?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yes.” I expected that sort of a blunt reply.  “From what I have heard, that’s definitely something you do.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Not in this case.  The faster I can be in and out without detection, the better.  That means a low death count.” I replied, entertained that there were rumors that I just went into places and left everyone dead.  I couldn’t remember doing that to any area that hadn’t already been subject to an outbreak, but I’d accept the reputation all the same.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I’d convinced her I wanted to keep casualties to a minimum, but I wasn’t leaving this base without a jet.  I managed to stay behind some crates as the men came back inside, they didn’t look as cheerful as a moment ago, and they had weapons out...so my clandestine infiltration had reached an end.  At least I was close to my target.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come on out.” One of them called nervously.  The weapons they carried were a touch more heavy duty than an average handgun, so they would hurt.  Five of them...some were moving deeper into the craft while a few were here...I could handle this many without causing much noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I slipped closer to one of them, reaching up to push their neck so swiftly to the side it cracked and I caught them before the body could hit the floor.  Setting that one down the other two were fairly close together so I couldn’t just take them down without the other noticing.  Still, I couldn’t linger either.  I slipped closer, pulling my knife from my boot.  Timing was key.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were just rounding the corner when I threw the combat dagger.  I had to just hope my aim would be good cause I had to focus on the second, my hand covering their mouth to interrupt any screams.  My free hand settled over the back of their neck and I bent the head backwards with enough force to break the spine, putting them down and flickering to the second opponent, who was also falling after the knife had settled neatly into their skull.  Three down, very little noise, my speed had recovered enough to get away with this much.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I glanced toward the front but they were searching the area.  I left them to it and left the craft, running toward the second one that would hopefully be in better condition. Okay, at least there weren’t open panels and wires hanging out, a better start this time.   I heard the sirens start up on the base as I reached the cockpit.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>As a kid, I used to read Dr. Suess, and I remembered parts of the Cat in the Hat super well.  That’s what it felt like my life had become since I’d helped Wesker, only minutely less feline and hat and much more sunglasses.  Whatever I tried to do, the mess just kept getting worse and worse, and there was no magic wand to just swipe away all the damages when this was all over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I doubted he actually needed radio silence to take on the base, but if he killed less people by me being silent then I would comply.  I chewed my lip staring off toward the distant base nervously.  I was waiting near the clearing where he’d asked me to and I couldn’t help but be concerned about what was happening.  Was Chris there?  I actually didn’t think he would be, but I didn’t know what he had been told by Leon either.  From what he’d said the base didn’t sound like it was on alert so that was a good thing.  I didn’t want people hurt if possible…</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Probably shouldn’t have gone along at all…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>My inner monologue was chiding me for making yet another questionable choice when it came to Albert Wesker.  Still, I wasn’t sure how much choice I had.  He would be here with or without me and at least maybe I kept him from harming as many people?  I’d gotten him to drop Leon at a hospital by playing along.  So I knew I’d helped at least one.  Any others I was skeptical of…  I couldn’t keep helping anyone though if I transformed into a monster or died, so until he resolved the creepy snake like cells in my blood I had to play along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ulterior motives aside, he didn’t seem to wish me harm, which was better than the people after him at the moment.  I had a hard time believing that the American Government was so stupid to be trying to kidnap him.  Even if he’d been injured at first, he seemed even stronger now than when I’d seen him at Rockfort.  It was a frightening concept, particularly since he didn’t seem as though he’d actually given up on spreading Uroborus so much had set it on the back burner.  It meant our current ceasefire wouldn’t last forever, eventually I’d be on the opposite side again and I wasn’t looking forward to it.  I didn’t doubt he’d be willing to tear me apart once his ‘gratitude’ for my helping him wore thin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On the way.” The radio announced, causing me to jump.  That was fast...or I’d just gotten really distracted.  Probably a bit of both.  He kept reporting in those few words, but I could see the jet lifting into the air over the facility.  I watched it shift and move, I could hear the distant echoes of gunfire, so it hadn’t been as stealthy as he wanted...how many more people were dead cause I’d helped him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I couldn’t dwell on the thought, he was picking me up before long and I would never escape the guilt if I really let it set in.  I tried my best to ignore the fresh specks of blood with the rest of the gore on his face and clothes when I climbed on and made my way to the cockpit where he was still pushing buttons or flipping switches, we were rising back into the air.  I sat next to him to put the seatbelt on, not sure if he’d warn me before he punched it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least it seemed minimal, compared to when he’d bathed in an army at any rate.  I’d have to take that.  I swallowed instead of asking about who he had killed.  I hated the idea that I was starting to share a kill count with him.  Instead, I pushed forward, it was the only logical step to making it through this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re heading to the states then, but where?  Not a lot of places to hide a jet like this.” I pointed out, leaning back slightly when the pressure picked up with the speed as we continued to climb.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have a few places that can handle it.” He replied, still focused on getting us to a proper altitude.  “The ones capable of it, are the ones we would need to go to anyway.  As I already explained, I can’t use a smaller facility and get Uroborus out of your system.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How long should this trip take?” I asked.  I hadn’t done a whole lot of travelling by this level of tech and the last time I wasn’t really timing it since I’d been kidnapped by the aircraft.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Five hours or so, depending on the weather.” He answered.  “We’re lucky there aren’t large weather systems at the moment, or there would have been a lot of going around.  Once we are in the air I can set the auto-pilot and get some sleep.  If you can, you should do the same.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sure suggest I sleep a lot.” I frowned at him.  “I doubt I can just pass out again.  Does the plane have any food?  That isn’t MREs?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubtful any supplies aren’t at least akin to those.” He smirked a bit at my aversion.  “You could bring me one of those and then go explore some yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I rolled my eyes.  Of course he wanted more food.  I knew it helped him regenerate, but I think he also just liked eating.  “I’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be fine to go ahead.” He stated, and it was clear he had kept the jet fairly level.  I nodded slightly at the suggestion and left him to it.  By the time I’d found the food, scowled at the brown plastic containers haunting me lately, and taken it back, he was sleeping.  He’d turned on the auto-pilot and leaned the chair back, but his sunglasses had slid a little down his nose and his eyes were closed.  He had to be exhausted if he slept instead of eating…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, I couldn’t recall him having slept much when he was looking after me.  I set the MRE down on the floor and sat down, sighing at the view of clouds and distant water beneath us.  It was better than the last flight I’d taken on a piece of equipment like this.  Made worse by the memory of how Steve had been lost...because of this creature…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If I just pushed the right things, I could probably tank the plane and drop us into the ocean.  Would that even kill Wesker?  He’d survived lava, but could he drown?  I wasn’t going to give up my own life trying to find out.  I rubbed my face and eyes before turning them toward the sky.  I didn’t want to look at the storm of chaos that I’d let loose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eventually, we reached near the states and he seemed to notice something.  He came awake suddenly…  He didn’t break anything, but he did seem disoriented a short moment, had he been having a nightmare?  He glanced around a moment to orient himself before starting to pilot again like he hadn’t just been asleep.  I liked to sleep way too much to rest like he did.  His sleep was always patchwork and then when he was done he was just done.  Who didn’t like lounging a minute or failed to use a snooze button once in a while?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wesker really was inhuman.</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Phone Call (1996) - </em>
  </b>
  <b>Wesker - </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?!” Birkin snapped opposed to a ‘hello’ when he lifted the receiver on the opposite end of the line.  Not even identifying himself, as would be normal procedure almost anywhere in the world...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not the most appropriate method to greet an old friend.” I observed, picturing his surprise at my phoning him.  We hadn’t talked all that much during my time in service.  Only seen each other twice in the several years.  Perhaps he didn’t consider me a friend at all anymore...</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Al?  Well I’ll be…” His tone altered, far less irritated than a moment ago.  “What’s going on?  I haven’t heard from you in at least a year, a little longer wasn’t it?  Wasn’t sure if you’d gotten yourself killed.  How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alive.” I answered.  “I’ve been reassigned to the Arklay area.  I was hoping I could stay with you, just until I can find a place.  Should only be a few days.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Will didn’t even hesitate.  “We’d be happy to have you.  The guest room just sits there gathering dust most of the time.  It’ll be good to have someone vaguely capable back in the office.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I won’t be returning as a researcher.” I stated, knowing it might be a point of contention for him.  William had never agreed with my choice to walk away from being as much hands on as he was.  “I’ll be taking a position with the local police department to work at a special tactics unit being set up.  Help keep an eye on things on the side of the community not aware of Umbrella’s setup.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, ranked up to double agent then?” Will chuckled at the idea, probably picturing something preposterous.  “Still pretty useful, Irons is trash at keeping real control of anything.  The man would rather try to look amazing, which he usually fails at as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, you’re saying my new boss will be just as horrible as our roommate days.” I observed, not looking forward to that.  Will snorted lightly, which was a sign it was even worse than he was saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey!” He snapped, causing me to pull the phone back slightly when he yelled.  “What is that?  You know you need to get into decontamination.  Yes, now, don’t just stare at me like a moron!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I waited for him to finish, apparently taking over as head researcher brought out more of his backbone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When do you get in?” He asked after another moment, not continuing the topic of the apparently worthless chief of police or any other wayward underlings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“About a week, I have to finish taking care of some things here and finish my paperwork.” I explained.  “If it’s too much trouble, I can simply stay at a hotel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No..  We can get things cleaned up for you.  Annette will be happy to have a reason for us to take a little time off.” He was only half-there, half-stuck in whatever he was thinking about for my visit.  “Sherry will be happy, she used to talk a lot about that time you visited over the summer for the fourth.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” I left the reply noncommittal.  William had gotten a little too free with the liquor at that small get-together.  “It’ll be good to see them both too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No!  Put that back!  What are you doing!?  That doesn’t get treated yet!”  William’s short moment of camaraderie was replaced by irritated yelling.  “Hey, send me the details on when you will get to the airport.  I’ll pick you up and make sure we have the guest room ready for you, Al.  I gotta go though, Umbrella doesn’t train them like they used to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The yelling continued a moment before the click.  Shorter than expected, but I smirked all the same.  It was difficult to fully quantify, but it would be nice to be heading ‘home’...</span>
</p><p>
  <b>End Chapter</b>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Did a TON of editing to get this chapter where I wanted it.  It was a lot of work.  I’m tired.  X.X.  I wanted to get a chapter up though going into early April since I'll be pretty busy and I don't know where I'll find time all that often to work on fics.  I was delighted to have hit 150 kudos!  I also had a lovely person say my fic was inspiration for a fic of their own (rarepearstan thanks).  It got me to sit and edit this out so I could get it put up.  Not a ton of Claire/Wesker this chapter, but some more touching on past events as well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Pain</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Claire and Wesker arrive to one of his safehouses and he continues to work with her while she starts to spy a touch into his life more than he would like.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>“You’re sick of feeling numb, you’re not the only one.  I’ll take you by the hand, and I’ll show you a world that you can understand…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><ul>
<li><b><em>Pain, Three Days Grace</em></b></li>
</ul><p> </p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>Watching us descend into a helipad that had opened up on the top of a building was less than comfortable, more so by the way it started to lower into some sort of facility beneath it.  I eyed the outside red lights as we dropped in distaste.  I didn’t have the best memories of long underground tunnels like this one.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Getting nervous now?” He had been watching me hesitate.  “I wouldn’t have thought you afraid of the dark.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not the dark that’s scary.  It’s the shit that calls it home.” Would I ever have a reason not to glare at him?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry, it’s not far.” He replied, as unruffled as ever.  He led the way toward the exit of the craft after we stopped.  The long tunnel had a nondescript door connected to whatever other horrible crap he kept at his ‘safehouse’.  I hesitantly followed him toward it.  I was pretty sure this is what it must feel like wandering into a hungry bear’s cave, at night.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>We walked through several dark passages.  There were tiny lights for exits here and there, but they didn’t provide much light.  We took a series of turns before I bumped into his back then grabbed his shoulders to steady myself.  I could barely see, more so since my phone and keys with my small flashlight had gone missing - which I was sure he had something to do with.   I heard the small sound of mirth and then blinked curiously as I heard the light mechanical whirl of an electronic door.  I scooted after him and heard the sound of my feet change a bit.  Then another mechanical sound and a rush of air around us before a little light on the other end of what seemed to be a tiny hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Welcome back, Doctor Wesker.” A digital, feminine voice announced.  “Can I help you with something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Lights on, turn off CM protocol.” He remarked.  More lights blinded me at first, but I kept scooting after him more out of a desire not to get left outside than to be close.  I let go once I felt something softer under my shoes and squinted against the change in illumination.  There was carpet here...it looked like the entryway of a small but nice apartment.  Recliner, television, small kitchenette, doors to either side.  The open door to the right led to what was probably a bedroom given the visible furniture.  The door on the left had a second keypad and security so I could guess the extra shady activities happened there.  Of course, he walked toward that door first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...made it look pretty normal.” I was sort of surprised, minus the keypad it looked like a comfortable place to live, no windows aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is just a small safehouse, but it’ll function temporarily for our purposes.  Let me give you your treatment and hook you up to see how your statistics are reading.  I’d like blood to look over as well.  You haven’t gotten nearly the amount of anti-virus I would like since the attack.” He shrugged at my remark, entering a code into the keypad.  It slid open with the same gentle mechanical sound to reveal a metallic hall with a few other doors, one of which had yet another keypad.  This was small?  How did one even keep a place like this secret? </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Murdering the people that built it…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>With that unhappy thought I followed him into yet another room that was set up like a small medical bay, I sat on the cold metal and rolled up my arm.  It seemed silly to argue now.  I was still pretty tired and thinking he wouldn’t bother to keep up just a ruse if he already had power over me in other ways.  I did want to not be virus filled when I finally got away from him.  If this got me a step closer, then I’d take that step.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, how long should we expect to be here?” I asked.  He’d said his target was America, but I didn’t know if he planned to just stay here or move on once he was done with me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Depends on a few factors I can’t currently decipher.” He replied.  “I would like no longer than a couple of days so they don’t narrow on this area, but I have a lot I need to figure out.  If you relapsed at all we might be better laying low for a while.  I need your results to give a better timeline.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need for the long face, I have better stocks than MRE’s.” He said.  I must have let it show on my face how much I didn’t want to be here weeks with him.  “Either way, we’ll manage.  I’m good at hiding when I need to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> you hide for so long?  I doubt you had stuff like this even with both an Umbrella flunkie and a STARS Captain salary.” I figured it was better to talk than watch him taking more of my blood or attaching more leads for his machines.  Awkward silence was almost always worse than twenty questions…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did rather well for myself, considering.  I did have a couple small safehouses set up but they weren’t to this level of tech.  I had been planning to betray Umbrella for some time before Raccoon City had the issues with the train and the mansion.  That problem just prompted my exit from the company a little sooner.”  I was surprised to hear him say he wasn’t just plotting along with Umbrella the whole time.  I’d thought he’d only split with them later…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I am good at social engineering however, and it was easier to blend into society and avoid cameras before the turn of the century.  It’s a bit harder now, but not impossible.  It takes different thinking.” He continued to explain.  “I adapt well, that’s how I managed not to get caught for so long.  I also have worked with different organizations that had it in their vested interest not to let my location leak out.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...except you betray everybody.” I pointed out, a little annoyed at the idea.  He’d betrayed Jill, Chris, STARS, Umbrella, even Tricell...who knows who else.  Why was I thinking it was a good idea to trust him and just follow him into his own little lab?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not everybody.  I have some people I wouldn’t turn my back on.” He answered, not seeming to take my accusation very seriously.  Then, he almost never seemed to get offended by the things I said, insults or otherwise.  I only nodded slowly though, he had said he had a sister before.  I guessed he probably wouldn’t betray her…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My lack of reply placed us right back into that uncomfortable quiet...at least not hunky-dory for me.  I wasn’t sure he cared.  He was probably used to people just avoiding speaking to him at all.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stiff silence?  Just another day at the office for Wesker.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Your sister right?  Who you wouldn't betray?" I guessed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"That's your assumption?  Hmm."  He </span>
  <em>
    <span>not answered </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a champion.  He walked off to fold a microscope down from a wall and dig out the (sample tray) and add a liquid then my blood.  He took his sunglasses off to look.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"It wouldn't kill you to give a straight answer." I said, laying back, tired despite spending a few hours resting on the train.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Would it kill you if I don’t?" He was smiling as he looked through the lens.  I sighed, giving up on getting any answers about that topic.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"How does it look?" I was a little nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Better than expected...” He stated, still looking.  “I’d say you shouldn’t be very set back, but more interference in getting your drugs on time could give Uroborus leeway to destabilize your system.  It’s a bit more present than it was last time I looked.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, we’re staying here then?” I asked, I was a bit unhappy at the prospect, but also nervous I had to get this done after the last time.  He didn’t answer right away, did that mean he wasn’t fond of the idea either?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Unknown.” He finally said, leaning away from the microscope and grabbing the sample before closing it back into the wall.  How much was a foldable microscope to have installed anyway?  This place had to have been a fortune, and he had more of these?  “I’ll need to go out for some things, but most of what we’ll need is here.  Now is the time to ask if you want something specific.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh, female soaps I guess?  Clothes would be nice.” I commented, feeling a bit put on the spot.  “Something to do other than be a pincushion.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stay here.” He remarked when I lifted a hand to take one of the leads off.  “I need the data for your vitals to get a fuller picture of where your health is.  The blood is just one piece of it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...” I sighed.  “What am I supposed to do while you’re out?  Just lay here?  That’ll get boring fast.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You need to rest.” He pointed out.  “You won’t do yourself any favors running around getting into things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Easy for you to say, if you don’t come back I doubt I could find my way out.  I don’t want to inherit your makeshift apartment as a tomb.” I returned, scowling when he pulled medicine out of a bottle into a syringe.  “Don’t be drugging me into unconsciousness just because I’m nervous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not morphine.” He stated, walking over to where I was really wondering if it would matter if I kicked him in the face.  Maybe he regenerated fast enough that it would just set broken… “It’s lorazepam.  It’ll help calm you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not better.” I remarked, keeping my face kick to myself for now in case I needed to ambush him later.  “I don’t want any drugs.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did pause at least, watching me from behind the shaded lens over his eyes.  What he was contemplating I wasn’t sure, but eventually he set the syringe to the side with a small breath out.  “Fine.  The terms don’t change.  Stay here.  I’ll retrieve you a Sudoku book.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just running out...possibly forever, might get kidnapped and leave you here to die.  Do some Sudoku…”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>So, maybe he was right that I was overreacting just a touch.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The likelihood that they would be able to kidnap him in the middle of his own safe haven was pretty slim.  I didn’t even know where on the coast we were but it had seemed remote enough.  He had survived a long time not getting caught, so I wasn’t being super reasonable about this.  Then, was anything in my life logical since I’d saved him?  Not really.  I took my pencil and Sudoku book, still tempted to kick him in his stupid, smug face.  Instead I opened it dutifully and he left me to the metallic room and light beeping of machines…</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Several days later - Wesker:</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are a variety of health benefits from yoga that are backed up by the facts, it aids with both physical flexibility and mental focus.  I was encouraged to learn it from a young age, though I admittedly don’t practice as much as I used to.” I explained.  “You should know how to do at least some of the basic poses these days, it’s much more common now than it was when I was younger.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your breathing is very important, and you don’t seem aware of it at all.” I continued, her narrowed gaze not intimidating me the way I think she hopes.  “You have to center yourself and be aware of your body, otherwise it won’t be nearly as helpful.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah...forgive me if I’m not super into the fad stuff, I like just doing a good run.” Claire retorted, rolling her eyes.  “Of all people, I wouldn’t have expected you to be into yoga.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s hardly a fad, it wasn’t as popular when I was young, but most of it is based in movements and stretches that help the body, the meditative qualities help the mind.  It’s been proven that meditation can help mental health for some time.” I pointed out.  She was the one that had insisted on moving more, and I didn’t want her to try jogging through my space.  If ever there was someone that would find a way to break something.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, cause you complimenting something for how it improves mental health definitely makes it a seller.” She snarked.  “Okay, yoga expert, what do I do then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>“As I said, breathing is important...but you should have an actual routine to follow instead of just chaotically picking whatever you want.  Start sitting with your legs folded.” He sat on the floor, folding his legs neatly underneath him like he’d been doing this sort of thing a long time.  I frowned at him and sat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try to get your knees as close to the floor as you can, cross your feet like this.” He refolded his legs to show me and I followed his example.  I couldn’t get my knees as low as his, but I thought I looked all right.  Dealing with Wesker was always trippy, the monster B.O.W. supervillain of our lifetime was just calmly running me through a yoga routine...nothing strange here.  I followed his instructions though, further surprised that he wasn’t a bad teacher when I actually stopped to listen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I felt weird going through these various motions, but it did help to focus on my breath.  I could do without the reminders to untense my muscles as often as he gave them, but overall I had to admit I was doing better with this sort of stretching than the few times I had tried it on my own.  I basically had just made it up on my own from stuff I’d seen in the media, but it didn’t seem quite so cracked when I had someone to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can continue tomorrow,” He stated after we’d worked for a while, setting a gloved hand on my forehead.  Again, could he actually tell my temperature through the leather?  I only nodded, a bit out of breath since the routine involved some planking in the stretches.  It was deceptively more difficult than I’d expected.  “No need to get you worked up further.  You should shower and then rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I only nodded.  This was the fifth day we’d been here and he often told me to rest after any given activity that wasn’t already sleeping.  Like it was some personal mantra for a pet...ugh.  He spent most of the time writing notes about my blood or other tests.  He sometimes disappeared deeper into the facility behind doors I couldn’t get through.  I was left to my own devices other than when we had meals most of the time.  I had gotten familiar with the little apartment, it wasn’t overly snug for two people, we could still get away from each other even when he was here.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After grabbing clean clothes I headed into the bathroom.  How he’d managed to get decent water pressure and hot water I didn’t know, but I was very willing to enjoy both.  I sighed as I thought about our arrangement.  What was his plan once he’d finished curing me?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go ahead, look.  The snake like cells are Uroborus…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> He’d let me see my own blood.  Perhaps so I could confirm myself I was still sick.  I shivered at the memory of the tiny tendrils of illness in my body.  He definitely hadn’t been lying.  They were there.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So...what then, fix me up and then ditch me?  Infect me again?  I felt a bit like I was a living science project, but I didn’t know what to do about it.  If I could do anything about it.  The thoughts had been circling around in my head for days.  Yet, I was no closer to any sort of solution for them.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whoa, whoa, out!” I yelled when the door opened.  To be fair, Wesker hadn’t even glanced my way, he was getting something out of the medicine cabinet.  He looked over for a second at my protest then shrugged lightly and back to the shelves.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing I haven’t seen, even I cared to look, dear heart.” Wesker remarked, neatly catching the bottle of shampoo I’d tossed at him.  I scowled at the admission he’d seen me naked.  “How did you think you were vaguely clean when you woke at the castle?  Magic?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Uh-huh.” I snatched the bottle when he held it toward me, the too thin curtain of the shower wrapped around me.  “You old perv, aren’t you like ninety now or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not my interest to peek at you like a debased old man.” He stated, colder than a moment ago as he plucked a medicine off his cabinet and shut it.  “I’d have to find you mildly attractive, and if you want it stated frankly...you smell horrible.  Continue to do something about that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stared in shock at his comments.  How did he go from somewhat reasonable yoga teacher to arctic asshole in an instant?  It was a reminder of how he was a dick even without the whole attempted world destruction bio-terrorist bullet on his resume.  I floundered for something to reply with, then huffed instead as he walked out to the bathroom.  Sure, I didn’t want him to be interested, but he didn’t have to just throw out there how much he wasn’t.  A girl had her pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jerk had totally peeked anyway, I saw the way his head went up and down just a touch.  I know what being checked out feels like.  I hurried to get this done, not trusting him since he could just kool-aid man back in for a second gander.  I swiftly cleaned up, dried, and got out of dodge.  Next time I’d take a chair in to block the door.  Sure, he could break it, but it was his place so he was the one that would pay for it.  I was ready to give him a piece of my mind when I walked back into the ‘living room’ and paused.  He was passed out in the recliner.  His sunglasses had been in one hand, but he’d dropped those on the floor nearby.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that I thought about it...I hadn’t seen him sleep at all since we’d gotten here.  Actually, since the incident where I saw him having the nightmare.  I had guessed he was just resting when I was, but apparently that wasn’t the case.  If so he wouldn’t have passed out like this.  There was a syringe on the small table next to the recliner, it had a few drops of red liquid left.  The stuff that kept his own mutations controlled?  Was that what he’d grabbed from the bathroom then?  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>I let out a long breath.  </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Okay.  Fine.  I’ll give you that…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d said he was in pain without his injections, so he probably was actually just in the bathroom looking for it.  It even made sense that he’d keep some there since he probably never thought he’d have a guest.  I suppose I shouldn’t have just presumed the worst.  At the end of the day, even with other pretences he was curing me.  He was pretty tolerant for someone that could have just broken me in half at any given moment.  Then, he didn’t have to let me know my body odor was so offensive…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His chest was barely rising and falling, but it was steady.  I tried to be quiet as I padded over to put the dirty laundry where he kept it.   I didn’t want to wake him so I slipped into his bedroom instead.  I noted some papers on his desk, and he didn’t actually let me linger in here much, so I tip-toed over to look.  They were probably about me, so I figured that was fair.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Man...he has such neat hand-writing!</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that a bad sign for a doctor?  Weren’t they all supposed to have atrocious hand-writing no one could make out?  Clearly one of the clues he was a psychopath others had missed.  I nodded to my own master spy reasoning and glanced at more of the notes.  They at least were in English this time...not that it mattered.  Most were just heart rate and blood pressure numbers.  Boring comments like ‘stable’, ‘improving’, or...‘over-emotional’...</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck you too, Wesker…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>I guess I was expecting something more diary-like, or whining about having to take care of a lesser mortal like me, or something vaguely interesting.  I rolled my eyes after the pages returned to Russian and set them down to look at other stuff on the desk instead.  More stuff that looked like it might be some sort of deeper entry, but it was in Russian again.  The desk was pretty bare.  He hadn’t been here long, and other than some of the loose leaf on the stop it was pretty well organized.  It even had a label maker.  Albert Wesker liked to be organized, nothing I didn’t already know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A shelf with doors held several vials of medicine that had several of the labels from the maker on the desk.  Several were just numbers and letters.  The red stuff...was that the stuff that kept him from spreading the virus but made him able to focus?  It was low...was that why he’d headed into the bathroom?  Did he lack things here to make more?  Or just time?  It took me hours to make it for him at the Castle.  It looked like what I’d made, but I didn’t know the name of it.  The color was really close, but I knew I couldn’t judge medicine on that alone.  A few other liquids were reddish too.  I put it back so I didn’t drop it and then glanced at the bookshelf.  It was full up with books, he’d even stacked some on the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I plucked a random one to flip it open.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Gene Attachment and Separation of Genetic Material to Alter a Host Body: Journals of Virology and Microbiology.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That sounded extra-creepy…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I closed the book again, not wanting to dig into the details of bio-terror studies.  I glanced at the shelf, but I wasn’t too keen on giving another of the books a try.  Why couldn’t he like action or comics or something like a normal guy?  I sighed again.  Eyes pausing on a filing cabinet.  I glanced toward the main room but he’d been sleeping fairly soundly from what I could tell.  I opened the top drawer, wincing slightly at the noise.  Why had people made filing cabinets so freaking loud?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Files...lots of them…in alphabetical order.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I didn’t recognize most of the names, but then Birkin and Burton stood out…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept files on the old STARS team and Umbrella members from Racoon City?  Talk about throughout...and creepy.  I realized the files were a tad dusty...which was impressive since they were shut off.  Did he never really reference them then?  I was tempted to look further, but I instead moved down to see more files in the next two drawers, and then a pile of stuff in the last.  Score.  Random kept stuff was bound to be more interesting than the rest of this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>My eyes widened as I looked at one of the things on the top of the pile.  An old S.T.A.R.S. mug, even if the stuff in here was dusty, I hadn’t expected to see that.  A few awards on wooden plaques turned to the side and were clearly forgotten.  Yeah, officer of the year...I frowned at the plaque and canted my head curiously at an old headband with fireworks coming off the top, as if it were a cheap fourth of July decoration.  There was a pile of unopened mail at the bottom.  They were postmarked to some P.O. Box in the United States in Illinois.  Which meant they were moved here later.  Most of them were marked from the early to mid-2000’s.  Weird.  He didn’t seem like the sort to not open his mail.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of them was old enough that the glue had dried out and there were photos coming out the side.  I glanced toward the door again, far as I could tell he was still sleeping.  I bit my lip...just doing a little spying wasn’t quite the same as opening up sealed envelopes.  Then, that one was already open...I started to shut the drawer anyway, but one of the photos slid out and gave me pause.  I knew that robin-egg blue dress…</span>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>(2004) - Claire - </em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>That shade of blue had always been one of her favorite colors, and Sherry looked lovely in it now.  The long shimmery dress that she was in for her dance looked mature, but not sexualized.  Which was probably unlike several other people attending her prom, but I was happy to see her going at all.  She’d previously talked about not doing it, and I wanted her to have as normal a life experience as possible.  She already was pretty limited on how much she could go out and some extra security had been hired by Simmons - not that she knew that part.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You didn’t have to give Justin such a bad time.” Sherry remarked as she slipped on the fancy short sweater since the weather wasn’t as warm as it should be this time of year.  “He was a little nervous about going at all after you and Leon both gave him a hard time.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I didn’t give him a hard time, I just asked him a few questions.” I returned.  I’d always been a little overprotective of Sherry since she’d been adopted basically by the government, but I also remembered my own prom not quite as fondly as some.  I’d been lucky cause I knew how to protect myself.  Sherry knew some things, but she wasn’t as scrappy as me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I guess at least I got to have a somewhat normal date.” She stated, leaning closer to the mirror to put earrings in.  Her short hair had some flowers in it and a few small braids as opposed to some of the larger fancy styles some of the girls with longer hair wore.  “If it had been my dad and Wesker I wouldn’t have gotten the chance at all.  They told me once years ago they were animatedly against me attending school dances.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I could guess why Wesker would be against it, but it was strange when she mentioned the ex-captain like she’d known him.  Was that just being afraid of him coming to look for her one day?  </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dad told me I could only go to dances if he was my date.  I thought it was just teasing then, but now I wonder.”  She stated, a touch of fondness in her remembrance.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I smiled at her despite the small bit of sadness on her face.  I knew what it was like to lose parents young, and hers had been a little crazy, but you can’t choose your family.  She was a good kid, she still loved the better memories…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Well, they would be wrong.  You look lovely and I’m sure you’ll be fine.  Leon’s chaperoning and you’ll get to have a night away from the house.” I pointed out.  I knew it got to her having to be stuck here all the time.  She didn’t get a lot of exceptions with Wesker still at large.  She thought, rolled her eyes and groaned lightly.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You guys are over the top.” She smiled despite her protest.  “I just hope you don’t scare Justin off.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“If we do, you deserve better.” I pointed out and she shook her head.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Uh-huh, says the confirmed bachelorette.” Sherry remarked.  That hurt a bit, it wasn’t my fault I hadn’t found a man good enough - that was actually interested in romance.  She didn’t know about my interest in Leon though, and neither did he, thank goodness.  I couldn’t handle that extra embarrassment in our interactions.  I was starting to get over the crush, so I’d be okay.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I just haven’t found someone good enough yet.” I echoed part of my thoughts.  “You don’t settle, that’s not okay.  You gotta find someone that compliments your faults and makes you better.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I dunno if Justin does that, he is cute though.” Sherry blushed a bit as she thought of her upcoming date and I chuckled with her about boys until Leon showed up to escort her.  It was a good night, lots of nice pictures…</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <b>
    <em>Present Day (2009) - Claire:</em>
  </b>
</p><p>
  <span>This was creepy right?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I stared at the picture of Sherry in her gown, glancing toward the other envelopes.  Were all of these of Sherry then?  Had Wesker really been keeping an eye on her all those years they kept her cooped up in that house?  I scowled at the concept and reached for another envelope, less concerned now with his privacy.  Yes, it was another of pictures of Sherry around the home where Simmons had kept her...would she be unsafe now?  She’d been allowed to join the government after Wesker’s death, so was she in danger from him again?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A third envelope had more photos of her.  Shoot.  I didn’t like this...then, these were all sort of discarded relics in a junk drawer that he didn’t seem to think about.  Was Sherry fine then?  I didn’t know.  I canted my head at the next envelope, it looked more yellowed than the others and it didn’t have any writing.  It was just something kept in the envelop and was never shipped anywhere, it didn’t have the same postmarks.  I folded it open, furrowing my brow at the old styled polaroid pictures.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sherry was in the picture, but she was in the background.  There was a blond woman frowning at the camera and I realized after a moment it was a younger Annette.  Why did Wesker have family photos of the Birkins?  Had they known him more than I realized?  I turned to the next pic, which was Sherry’s dad off to the side and Sherry running in a small yard.  I almost turned past it, but I saw a partly gloved hand near her dad at the edge of the photo.  Wesker?  He just hung out at the Birkin family barbeque?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, he was in the next photo...scowling at a red-faced William as the smaller researcher tried to put a cheesy headband with stars on his head.  It was the same one in the drawer...Wesker was holding him back with one hand and Sherry was laughing in the background so Annette must have taken the shot.  I stared curiously...it was just so...oddly domestic for Wesker.  If I wasn’t seeing it myself, I wouldn’t believe it.  Then the picture was snatched from my hand and tossed in the drawer.  Which was then slammed hard enough that the filing cabinet shuttered and teetered before barely steadying itself.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I’m not super stoked with the way I had to sort of time jump mid chapter but I didn’t want to give a super tiny chapter either.  Still lots of plots and plans, just gotta get the time to actually write.  I had time today to fix this up and get it finally posted so that was good.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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